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<h4>BALLAD OF ANOTHER OPHELIA</h4>
Oh, the green glimmer of apples in the orchard,<br/>
Lamps in a wash of rain,<br/>
Oh, the wet walk of my brown hen through the stackyard,<br/>
Oh, tears on the window pane!<br/>
<br/>
Nothing now will ripen the bright green apples,<br/>
Full of disappointment and of rain,<br/>
Brackish they will taste, of tears, when the yellow dapples<br/>
Of Autumn tell the withered tale again.<br/>
<br/>
All round the yard it is cluck, my brown hen,<br/>
Cluck, and the rain-wet wings,<br/>
Cluck, my marigold bird, and again<br/>
Cluck for your yellow darlings.<br/>
<br/>
For the grey rat found the gold thirteen<br/>
Huddled away in the dark,<br/>
Flutter for a moment, oh the beast is quick and keen,<br/>
Extinct one yellow-fluffy spark.<br/>
<br/>
Once I had a lover bright like running water,<br/>
Once his face was laughing like the sky;<br/>
Open like the sky looking down in all its laughter<br/>
On the buttercups—and buttercups was I.<br/>
<br/>
What then is there hidden in the skirts of all the blossom,<br/>
What is peeping from your wings, oh mother hen?<br/>
'T is the sun who asks the question, in a lovely haste for wisdom—<br/>
What a lovely haste for wisdom is in men?<br/>
<br/>
Yea, but it is cruel when undressed is all the blossom,<br/>
And her shift is lying white upon the floor,<br/>
That a grey one, like a shadow, like a rat, a thief, a rain-storm<br/>
Creeps upon her then and gathers in his store.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, the grey garner that is full of half-grown apples,<br/>
Oh, the golden sparkles laid extinct—!<br/>
And oh, behind the cloud sheaves, like yellow autumn dapples,<br/>
Did you see the wicked sun that winked?<br/>
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