Gathering Mushrooms (Paul Muldoon Poems)
As he knelt by the grave of his mother and fatherthe taste of dill, or tarragon-he could barely tell one ...
As he knelt by the grave of his mother and fatherthe taste of dill, or tarragon-he could barely tell one ...
Even as we speak, there's a smoker's cough from behind the whitethorn hedge: we stop dead in our tracks; a ...
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