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Ah the foggy, foggy dawns
And misty eves which pierce the bones;
Such rat-grey gloomings
And dead-man loomings,
Fox spoor on the dew-black lawns
And wind-wisps making sudden moans:
Dusk despite all lingers later,
The ditchman, digging, stretches straighter;
Candlemas coughings quenched,
Though freezing rains bedamp,
Cherry buds like fingers clenched
Swell and fidget to untamp.
The
sun like a sucked mint pales the sky,
Linnets
and sparrows shout hue and cry,Blackbirds forage straws,
Bright berries tempt the ’daws,
But should a brown-dense cloud throw cover,
All stills lest winter be not over.
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© February 2015