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The old rock wall runs along the road
struggling to contain a field,
that's managed now, to overgrow,
escaping the old shield.
The trees have planted gnarled roots
widening once small cracks,
while all around, in crooked ranks
wildflowers spring attacks.
Yet here and there in stately grace,
it shows a pure unblemished face,
a back thats strong, a line that's true
the mark of man's domain,
'till time and nature once again
join hands to restake claim.
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