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Iris DeMent
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Broad Gold
Broad gold, the evening heavens glow, The April air is cool and tender. You should have come ten years ago, And yet in welcome I surrender.
Come here, sit closer to me, look With eyes that twinkle, mouth that purses, Into the little blue-bound book That hold my awkward childish verse.
Forgive me that I long forsook Joy's sunny paths, nor glance toward any; Forgive me those whom I mistook For you—alas, they were too many. [1915]
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