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The Cypress



The Cypress 

by Robert Neest


A dusty country road was going up

Towards the lonely house between the trees

Where several chatting people sitting by

Were looking at an carriage with one horse.


Two lines of grass were trailing all the lane

And bordering the yellow field beside

That was expanding all that we could see

Before the forest covering the hills.


Close to the road, there was a cypress tree

That seemed to be for ages standing there

With all the local people knowing it

Since they were children passing on its side.


The tree was pointing to the azure heights

Through several hasty bundles of white clouds

That were dispersed and covering all sides

Like moving guards defending earth and sky.


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