To a Lady Seen From the Train

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O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
  Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
 And shivering sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
 Missing so much and so much?

© Frances Darwin Cornford