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The Haunted Garden

Rating: 3.0

In this sad place
Memory hangs on the air
Fragile as Spring snail's tiny shell,
Coming to the sympathetic ear
Gentle as bud's green pulsing in the sun,
Suave as sin in a black velvet glove;

The old faces gaze
Wistfully as birds, among the nodding leaves,
They watch the pleasures they may never share;

And through the twilight hours
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