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It seems so long since I was by your fireside Dreams like lily of the valley rising, Earthly shadows moving across the tiles; The soil in my heart was about to flood But the stem-bowed flowers take stiff breaths in the city A hesitation: so no-one can arrange them wrong. I miss the lane were the woman used to sell eggs, Where the humiliation at the end of the lane pales With these rain dowsed stones that damn my every step Stinking chests of anxiety, blotting the bottom of rivers It’s In the death pangs of some wounded deer Whose pupils are the alley you walk through the August Summer in your hair, your bells bloom While all my guts have disappeared. I spend my time looking into electric fires Till advent clouds come flowing through the window It's then I feel the shadows move across the tiles And every feint remembrance makes me tremble. |