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DYED IN WOOL
It has to be deeply personal, you said
As if the sun is not so
Nor the moon
As if the verdant lane
Fenced in by memories of you and me
And the lonely jackal on distant moor
Are enough to create human mystery
When through shimmering haze the moon is full
The web is shut, the famous mistletoe
has dripped its cool,
A weak and trifling heart will peep out silently
To whimper at the startling beauty
Singed and dyed in many splendored wool
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