5.7.29
The sky was flushed with a rosy hueAs the light of dawn came stealing through.
“Red! there’s a sign of another wet day”
Sighed the Shepherd as he wended his way.
Across the hills, to his fold and flock
To see that he loses none of his stock.
Nev's Grandma's poetry
Written while working at Ash Hill Lodge, 1928-1930
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