| Carl Sandburg (18781967). Chicago Poems. 1916. |
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| 105. Hydrangeas |
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| DRAGOONS, I tell you the white hydrangeas turn rust and go soon. | |
| Already mid September a line of brown runs over them. | |
| One sunset after another tracks the faces, the petals. | |
| Waiting, they look over the fence for what way they go. | |
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