March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco
A Patch Of Old Snow
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There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I've forgotten --
If I ever read it.
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