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With eyes hand-arched he looks into / The morning’s face, then turns away …
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The song-birds? are they flown away? / The song-birds of the summer-time, …
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We have sent him seeds of the melon’s core, / And nailed a warning upon his door; …
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Calling, the heron flies athwart the blue / That sleeps above it; reach on rocky reach …
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Can freckled Auguest,—drowsing warm and blonde / Beside a wheat-shock in the white-topped mead, …
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An heritage of hopes and fears / And dreams and memory, …
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Teach me the secret of thy loveliness, / That, being made wise, I may aspire to be …