And they were red:
And no breath
But a white face
Not smiling
But somewhat angered
At this Earth
Heap, heap, the leaves
That fell
Touched by chill’s hands
The frost
And sere
Heap, heap, cover
And warm
The chill-ailing bier
And from the ground
Sweet incense-mist
Arises without sound:
O mother my mother
I saw tears in your eyes
And they not liquid
Were
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