Teazles

The very layer of crab thats wattled in the hedge 
The old post in its red paint crushed with waggons rushing through 
The teazles prickly burrs or the little hubs of sedge 
Will bring me to the old place where I lived a moon ago 
But the flowers here they tell me in their brown red white & blue 
That their sisters are now in the fields around my house at home 
Though the sun here shines as bright & as christal be the dew 
They are not so sweet as those flowers that in our meadows grew

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