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The Garden

 The garden admires you.
For your sake it smears itself with green pigment, The ecstatic reds of the roses, So that you will come to it with your lovers.
And the willows-- See how it has shaped these green Tents of silence.
Yet There is still something you need, Your body so soft, so alive, among the stone animals.
Admit that it is terrible to be like them, Beyond harm.

Poem by Louise Gluck
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