9
"Now if you were not true in word,
As now I know you be,
I'd tear you as the withered leaves,
Are torn from off the tree.
10
"And well for you that bramble-leaf
Betwixt our lips was flung.
The living to the living hold,
Dead to the dead belong."
[No 7 THE SPRIG OF THYME]
C.J.S.
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