Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/35

 BEHIND THE CLOSED EYE

the old frequented ways

That wind around the tangled braes,

I live again the sunny days

Ere I the city knew.

And scenes of old again are born,

The woodbine lassoing the thorn,

And drooping Ruth-like in the corn

The poppies weep the dew.

Above me in their hundred schools

The magpies bend their young to rules,

And like an apron full of jewels

The dewy cobweb swings.

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