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Hilltop: A Literary Paper. Volume 1 Number 1

XII — For Bill Mabbett

For Bill Mabbett

Dressed in green she came, and like
A tulip leaned her head against

The door and looked at me. Her hand
Lay cool as a stone against her dress;

And her sandled feet showed white
As a pair of doves on the grass.

She did not stir, but wanted me
To speak to her.

Her words were lilies
On a green stem the small wind shakes.