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Verse: Edith Lister papers

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Verse fragments (Untitled) arranged alphabetically first line And so they whisper sad among themselves Awake, I ache But now that death is making all things plain But surely the glass gave back a lie see The unknown But the road winds through the fields But what the balm of healing that Time brings But what the folding of the garment means Could it all come back again Does it comfort you now that your head was stuffed full Ghosts do you call us? we who ride Go from my window, go I want to gather flowers In that shut room I call my mind Let us sing of the strife unending Long years ago 'twas thought no sin Now where I lie Now the moon's magic makes the bare branched trees Seldom have I met the self that I know as me (after Heine) Since we must part, my only dear Take down the flute that hangs against the wall Three countries own me ... 'Twas not the haunted wood of shade and slime When all the pleasant words are said When I was small the world was large When in her lover's hand some nymph unkind The white mist folded round the lonely land Who is standing outside my door? Who is the lover you went to meet? The yellow shocks of new reaped corn