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Charlotte Mary Mew - From a WindowCharlotte Mary Mew - From a Window
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Up here, with June, the sycamore throws      Across the window a whispering screen;  I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose, Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.    But I mean to go through the door without fear,    Not caring much what happens here        When I’m away: How green the screen is across the panes    Or who goes laughing along the lanes With my old lover all the summer day.
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