Soliloguy - Poem by William White
Who sat beneath this tree
As I now sit below
Dwelling on a memory.
Of springtime long ago.
Could they too once have heard
The cuckoo far away,
Listened to the Blackbird
On a springtime day.
What tales this tree could tell
Of happiness or grief,
With just the blackbirds song
And whispering of leaf.
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The Road Not Taken
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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