Come sons
John Clare Stokes
Come from far flung
Ports of distant origin
Tell to me
The stories I longed
To hear
With folded hands
And smile set for
Eternity
I’ve a long, long time
To In this dream
Everything seemed
as I dreamed
it would be
there are tender mercies
in dreams
we know not
who concocts
the scenes
but they were real
while we dreamed
As we dreamed
It would be.
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