and there
where the innerings of the fields converge
by long the falling of your way’s desire
rest you now from all the toils of day
around the hearth of nighttime’s lonely fire
lay your heart to rest its winter’s load
and simply sit and longingly wait content
until the bulbs of spring emerge
although deep they lay below this snowy sward
where many a hope in earnest overstayed
never again to open up upon another time
but lay forgotten and forgotten lay
and long forgotten there they stay
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