Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
Where I have lost, I softer tread -
I sow sweet flower from garden bed -
I pause above that vanished head
And mourn.
Whom I have lost, I pious guard
From accent harsh, or ruthless word -
Feeling as if their pillow heard,
Though stone!

When I have lost, you'll know by this -
A Bonnet black - A dusk surplice -
A little tremor in my voice
Like this!

Why, I have lost, the people know
Who dressed in frocks of purest snow
Went home a century ago
Next Bliss!

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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz

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