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“Sometimes Across the fields of yesterday She sometimes comes to me A little girl just back from play the girl I used to be And yet she smiles so wistfully once she has crept within I wonder if she hopes to see the woman I might have been— —1933” — Blanche Caldwell Barrow
Sometimes
Across the fields of yesterday
She sometimes comes to me
A little girl just back from play
the girl I used to be
And yet she smiles so wistfully
once she has crept within
I wonder if she hopes to see
the woman I might have been—
—1933