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Edwin Watkins

Spring 1950

The Flower¹

By Edwin Watkins

                             Foweles in the frith,                              The fisses in the flod,                              And i mon waxe wod.                              Mulch sorwe I walke with                              for beste of bon and blod. It seemed that summer issued […]

Summer 1980

From Changes

By Edwin Watkins

The House Is Empty Among the first small perfections of the spring, Each flower still hardly a new knot on the limb, The people of Ugarit in Canaan, both men […]