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Dorothy Parker - LandscapeDorothy Parker - Landscape
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Now this must be the sweetest place  From here to heaven`s end; The field is white and flowering lace,  The birches leap and bend, The hills, beneath the roving sun,  From green to purple pass, And little, trifling breezes run  Their fingers through the grass. So good it is, so gay it is,  So calm it is, and pure. A one whose eyes may look on this  Must be the happier, sure. But me- I see it flat and gray  And blurred with misery, Because a lad a mile away  Has little need of me.
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