NATURE
Into the lap of adamant,And spices, and the dew,That stiffens quietly to quartz,Upon her amber shoe.
XXIX
THE one that could repeat the summer dayWere greater than itself, though heMinutest of mankind might be.And who could reproduce the sun,At period of going down —The lingering and the stain, I mean —When Orient has been outgrown,And Occident becomes unknown.His name remain.
XXX
THE wind tapped like a tired man.And like a host, “Come in,”I boldly answered; entered thenMy residence within
A rapid, footless guest,To offer whom a chairWere as impossible as handA sofa to the air.
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