Francis Duggan Wings Poems

With the sun on their dark wings in the blue Summer sky
In pursuit of flying insects the welcome swallows fly
Above the brown paddocks a familiar sight
Of the southern Land often in full flight
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Don't talk to me of Heaven or don't talk to me of Hell
I only know the body for the soul is a shell
And the way we appear to others is beyond our control
For an ugly looking person may have a beautiful soul.
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