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By Janie Houle
Read MoreMaking Outsiders Insiders
What is love? What is pure? On top of a tree On a hill, in spring Has the strength of an arm The olive in her peak From the pain runaway Though she’s light Though she’s bright In the darkness of a night She appears, and bright eyes Look around, ‘till it’s time Now is when She has dreamt To behold land and sea To go far and beyond Of the sights of the dreams And the mornings to come By the wish of the sun She will…
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