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forgotten man of wimborneContrary to public belief he hid his sorrow within his brief he walked the lanes of wimborne town his world was joy and he wore a heart within his gown the people came to hear his talk he stuttered lots when he did squawk his master craftsman's words of peace with his faded dress and his vestrel teeth too long the bells rang out that day the stour was rich and the fields of hay the maidens came to say a prayer within the church close to the Fayre the preachers vexed with lines of wrath yet love was born in mortals graft for swans rode on the water free and the market sold their liberty he had a word for each young man who came to gaze at his wise hands his stature small yet voice so free he spoke of love and liberty through fields of corn and stacks of wheat where many gone he'd love to greet but few could warrant of his fame the night the river blessed his name too bad his likes will never walk the streets of wimborne in days of mirth the swallows fly to greet each morn oh how good it was to be so born Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades - Vote for this poem -
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