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Let your song be delicate. The skies declare No war — the eyes of lovers Wake everywhere.
Let your voice be delicate. How faint a thing Is Love, little Love crying Under the Spring.
Let your song be delicate. The flowers can hear: Too well they know the tremble, Of the hollow year.
Let your voice be delicate. The bees are home: All their day's love is sunken Safe in the comb.
Let your song be delicate. Sing no loud hymn: Death is abroad . . . Oh, the black season! The deep — the dim!
John Shaw Neilson
Read poems about / on: song, war, spring, home, death, love, flower, sky
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