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The following images resound from the gardens surrounding my home despite  horrendous heat and humidity…

Queen Ann, Queen Ann has washed her lace

she chose a summer’s day and laid it in a grassy place

to whiten if it may.

Queen Ann, Queen Ann

has left it there and slept all through the night

to wake to find the sunshine fair and all the meadows white.

Queen Ann, Queen Ann

is dead and gone, she died a summer’s day

yet left her lace to whiten on, each weed and tangled way.

Author Unknown

(I memorized this poem as a child)

Copyright © 2012 By Diane LaSauce All Rights Reserved

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