Sunday, December 22, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Edwin Markham

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As we go star-stilled in the mystic garden,
All the prose of this life run there to rhyme,
How eagerly then will the poor heart pardon
All of these hurts of Time!
--
III

 
Edwin Markham

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The kiss of the sun for pardon,
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Pardon me while I burst into flames
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