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The Gardener

Richard Tillinghast

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. โ€”L. P. Hartley While drums pounded and cymbals Drove men mad and bronze siege cannon Pulverized walls built...

The Ends of the Earth

Richard Tillinghast

The wind shears through hardwoods, then rain brings down the leaves here, eight thousand miles east of their archipelago of service, maplike now in its remoteness. Woodsmoke censes the...