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William Morris - Pomona
Work rating: Low

I am the ancient apple-queen,
As once I was so am I now.
For evermore a hope unseen,
Betwixt the blossom and the bough.

Ah, where`s the river`s hidden Gold!
And where the windy grave of Troy?
Yet come I as I came of old,
From out the heart of Summer`s joy.
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