poems

  There is a scent of rain. It's the scent of earth Having drunk its fill of the evening rain, The shy fragrance of wet pollen And weed-flowers. (If you have a nose for such things)…
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On our virgin lands they came Horses of wood from Albion's shores Carrying in them abundant fiends With skins pale as lunar's delight On our ignorance they sat Poaching us of our…
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