By: Ardis E. Parshall - March 22, 2012 The Constant Generation By Lael W. Hill My father and my mother seeStill, the child I used to be –And cannot quite admit that nowThe twig they bent is equal bough. My children, willow-lithe, beholdIn me a full shade, heavy, old;To tell the green years I, too, crossedIs leaf on lost leaf laid and lost. Between these young, those old, I stand,My roots in theirs twined strand with strand,And kno...
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