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Ralph Hodgson

Did anyone ever have a boring dream?

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Some things have to be believed to be seen.

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The handwriting on the wall may be a forgery.

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Time, you old gypsy man, will you not stay, put up your caravan just for one day?

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The Beggar

He begged and shuffled on;
Sometimes he stopped to throw
A bit and benison
To sparrows in the snow,
And clap a frozen ear
And curse the bitter cold.
God send the good man cheer
And quintal hundredfold.

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A Song

With Love among the haycocks
We played at hide and seek;
He shut his eyes and counted -
We hid among the hay -
Then he a haycock mounted,
And spied us where we lay;
And O! the merry laughter
Across the hayfield after!

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The Mystery

He came and took me by the hand
Up to a red rose tree,
He kept His meaning to Himself
But gave a rose to me.
I did not pray Him to lay bare
The mystery to me,
Enough the rose was Heaven to smell,
And His own face to see.

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The Birdcatcher

When flighting time is on I go
With clap-net and decoy,
A-fowling after goldfinches
And other birds of joy;
I lurk among the thickets of
The Heart where they are bred,
And catch the twittering beauties as
They fly into my Head.

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Stupidity Street

I saw with open eyes
Singing birds sweet
Sold in the shops
For people to eat,
Sold in the shops of
Stupidity Street.
I saw in vision
The worm in the wheat,
And in the shops nothing
For people to eat;
Nothing for sale in
Stupidity Street.

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The Swallow

The morning that my baby came
They found a baby swallow dead,
And saw a something, hard to name,
Flit moth-like over baby's bed.
My joy, my flower, my baby dear
Sleeps on my bosom well, but Oh!
If in the Autumn of the year
When swallows gather round and go -

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