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Ó¢Óï±³ËÐÃûƪ64 Those Winter Sundays
ÈÕÆÚ:2009-05-15
Sundays too my father got up early

¡¡¡¡and put his clothes on in the blue black cold,

¡¡¡¡then with cracked hands that ached

¡¡¡¡from labor in the weekday weather made

¡¡¡¡banked fires blaze..no one ever thanked him.

¡¡¡¡

¡¡¡¡I'dwake and hear the cold splintering ,breaking.

¡¡¡¡When the rooms were warm,he'd call,

¡¡¡¡and slowly i would rise and dress,

¡¡¡¡fearing the chronic angers of that house

¡¡¡¡

¡¡¡¡Speaking indifferemtly to him,

¡¡¡¡who had driven out the cold

¡¡¡¡and polished my good shoes as well.

¡¡¡¡What did i know, what did i know

¡¡¡¡of love's austere and lonely offices?