Stanza 5 & 6

His dream goes down a dusty path,

Of seashells 'twixt two meadows,

The sun is bright, till clouds flow fast,

He's chased by ragged scarecrows.


And on each head of pumpkin gourd,

Her face is scribed with hatred,

He sees her bitter, angry scorns,

In every contour pasted.

The End

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