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Edith Nesbit - RejectedEdith Nesbit - Rejected
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WE wandered down the meadow way--     The path beside the hedge is shady,-- You did not see the silver may,     You talked of Art, my sweet blind Lady. You talked of values and of tone,     Of square touch and New English crazes; Could you not see we were alone,     Where God`s hand paints the world with daisies? You spoke of Paris and of Rome     And in the hedgerow`s thorny shadows A white-throat sang a song of home,     Of English lanes and English meadows. You talked about the aims of Art     And how all Art must needs be moral; I heard you with a sinking heart     And watched the waving crimson sorrel. For when I found you had not heard     The song--nor seen the dewy clover, I cared no more to find the word     Should make you hear and see a lover!
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