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POEMS. 183
The smallest " robe " will fit me,
And just a bit of " crown; "
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home.
I'm glad I don't believe it,
For it would stop my breath,
And I'd like to look a little more
At such a curious earth!
I am glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the mighty autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.
