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Spirit Speech

How green that cedar grows against the west,
The gray west full of rain:
The flickering firelight here within the room
Frays all the gloom.
The twilight comes storm laden o'er the plain:
Great drops like blood beat down on earth's rough breast.

The room is full of flowers—near my hand
Are violets mauve and white.
And lilies' fragrant breath each corner fills
And slender daffodils
Touch the dusk spaces with a tender light,
And all have speech for those who understand.

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