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[The grass is beneath my head]

by F. S. Flint, 1917

The grass is beneath my head;
and I gaze
at the thronging stars
in the night.
They fall... they fall...
I am overwhelmed,
and afraid.
Each leaf of the aspen
is caressed by the wind,
and each is crying.
And the perfume
of invisible roses
deepens the anguish.
Let a strong mesh of roots
feed the crimson of roses
upon my heart;
and then fold over the hollow
where all the pain was.

Tags: heartache, loneliness, loss, nature, night, sadness

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