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Reach Down, Sweet Grass

(For H.K.P.)

Reach down,
Oh long grass fingers,
Touch her hair
And strokebut-softly-her tired eyes!
Make soft
The pillow there
Beneath her weary head,
And maybe, then,
She will not care
That she is dead!

And when
The wild things cry
Their mating songs,
And pregnant Time makes ready to bring forth
Her issue,
Gentle grass
Caress her still,
And loose the earth a bit
So she may hear
The birthing sounds
Of lovely Spring
This year.

Then Beauty
Such as you have never known
Before, dear grass,
Will come to you, I swear,
For being kind to her
Where, quietly,
Alone, yet not alone,
She rests-
In silence-there!

Sweet grass
Reach down
And let her know-
When it is time, this year-
That Spring
Is here-
She loved it so!

Written by Esther Popel (1896-1958)


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