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A poem by Madison Julius Cawein |
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The Quarrel |
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Title: The Quarrel Author: Madison Julius Cawein [More Titles by Cawein] Could I divine how her gray eyes How, some wood-flower's shadow brown, How, rippled sunshine blown thro' air, How to a folded bud again Naught deigning save eyes' utterance, Then, afterwards, how melted there Then were I wise to know how grew [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |