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  • Poetry on the Feast of the Purification of Mary

    Now that I kneel at the throne, O Queen,Pity and pardon me.Much have I striven to sing the same,Brother of beast and tree;Yet when the stars catch me aloneNever a linnet sings-And the blood of a man is a bitter voiceAnd cries for foolish things. Not for me be the vaunt of woe;Was not I from a boyVowed with the…