letra de in dark weather, op. 33 - edmund rubbra
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against the gaunt, brown-purple hill
the bright brown oak is wide and bare;
a pale-brown flock is feeding there —
contented, still
no bracken lights the bleak hill-side;
no leaves are on the branches wide;
no lambs across the fields have cried;
— not yet
but whorl by whorl the green fronds climb;
the ewes are patient till their time;
the warm buds swell beneath the rime —
for life does not forget
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