Grave The Trees Mourned.
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
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Grave the trees mourned.
White the wind sang.
Dark along the steep
And weary cemetery road.
And it was night.
The graves sat still.
The dark played round
The marbles chill
And the small plaques.
Grave the trees mourned.
White the wind sang.
Dark along the steep
And weary cemetery road.
And it was night.
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