by Elizabeth Coatsworth
The plant cut down to the root
Does not hate.
It uses all its strength to grow once more.
Turn, boy, to the unknown field
Beyond the gate.
The plant cut down to the root
Does not hate.
It uses all its strength to grow once more.
Turn, boy, to the unknown field
Beyond the gate.
Never look back agin
To the bolted door.
__________
To the bolted door.
__________
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