My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings
And yet recalls the very hour -
'T was noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May -
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down his load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree

by: Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1906)

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