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MATTHEWS, Paul


Finding Out a Joy


As I walked out this May morning

I heard the Blackbird

calling from the wood


and there without a word

the Bluebells spread and I said

look at me you pure inquisitors


and this they did -

their mute gaze finding out a joy

I’d too long shaded from the view


and as the Blackbird

carolled in the sunlit glade

I wept for being seen through.