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|The Crows, the Wind and (standard:poetry, 125 words)|
|Author: kendall thomas||Added: Nov 23 2008||Views/Reads: 1410/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
The crows will still call across the Cumberland Long after I'm gone. The wind will still wend its way through the tall grasses And the trees. The locusts will still drop their sweet scent in the spring along with the honeysuckle, And that which is left of me will still be a part of the whole. . But what is that to one, Who lives and breathes, To become a lump of clay or a willow tree? . Yet would I want eternal youth? Would insensible beauty be a joy forever Or a chain around the neck? . How I have grown tired of this old world With all its myriad facets. How tired and wasted, then, a god must be Who knows the morrow. Tweet
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