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mary howe - spring pastoral lyrics

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liza, go steep your long white hands
in the cool waters of that spring
which bubbles up through shiny sands
the colour of a wild+dove’s wing

dabble your hands, and steep them well
until those nails are pearly white
now rosier than a laurel bell;
then come to me at candlelight

lay your cold hands across my brows
and i shall sleep, and i shall dream
of silver+pointed willow boughs
dipping their fingers in a stream
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