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At the end of the wood there's a little white gate | 29-Apr-16
Enquirer is looking for author of a poem which her mother learned by heart in the late 1920s or early 1930s. Enquirer has full text but is looking for any other information, especially author. The poem begins:
At the end of the wood there's a little white gate
A gate that I mustn't go through
There's a notice marked 'Private' just there by the side
I think it's so tiresome - don't you?
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