My Angels, Away
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My Angels, AwayPlease read and comment on this tribute to the hearts in travail in the wake of the deaths of their precious children. How we should hold the embrace of our own that much more fondly and blessed. |
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.