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Taid’s Grave

Taid's Grave, Gillian Clarke 'Rain on lilac leaves. In the dusk they show me the grave, a casket of stars underfoot, his name there, and his language. Voice of thrushes in rain, My cousin Gwynfor eases me into the green cave, Wet hands of lilac tough my wrist and the secret unfreckled underside of my arm daring fingers to count five warm blue eggs.'

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