By: Ardis E. Parshall - June 26, 2014 Hill Woman By Maude Blixt Trone I do not care to talk with menWhose ears have never heardThe misery from little things –The wail of a wounded bird. I could not love a man whose eyesAre blinded to the sightOf a moon brittled by the frostAnd chipping off its light. I will not marry any manUntil he proves to meThat he can plant the smallest seedAs well as fell a tree. (1946) ...
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