Oh
Julia, poor Julia,
troubled
by the hand of fate,
setting
out quickly,
forgotten
to close the gate.
thoughts
awry, haste not hate,
never
more shall she be late.
A
boy she held,
many
times in her arms,
a
smiling son, a fonder one,
but
she cannot hear his psalms.
He
sang of her so many ways,
until
he joined her at the gates.
Oh
Julia, poor Julia,
a
life short and sweet,
so
much yet to give and share,
flame
red hair and tiny feet.
And
in her arms protected all,
became
a legend who once was small...
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