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W I N T E R R E C O L L E C T I O N S While sitting on a bench where the red rec* Once used to be, I mused beneath a blue Pellucid autumn sky. Still feeling sick, I nonetheless rejoiced in seeming show Of summer in November; for the sun Shone strongly and a mild quiet air caressed Me with a lady's hand. Yet winters gone Now fifty years their images impressed Within my fancy: making me again A boy who on past snowy evenings slid Loud- shouting down some icy slopes lay on A cardboard square, a soggy makeshift sled, While keen east winds worked mischief on my feet And fingers. . . but today, I warmly sat.
* A local expression for a recreation ground covered in dark red shale.
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