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I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill

Rating: 2.8
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still,
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,
Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems,
Had not yet lost those starry diadems
Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.
The clouds were pure and white as flocks new shorn,
And fresh from the clear brook; sweetly they slept
On the blue fields of heaven, and then there crept
A little noiseless noise among the leaves,
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COMMENTS
Ratnakar Mandlik 05 April 2019
" Starry diadems caught from the early sobbing of the morn" ! What a fantastic imagery coupled with equally fantastic expression. Great poem penned by a master craftsman.
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