As sweet and dry was the ground
As tobacco-dust.
I tasted deep the hour
Between the far
Owl’s chuckling first soft cry
And the first star.
A long stretched hour it was;
Nothing undone
Remained; the early seeds
All safely sown.
And now, hark at the rain,
Windless and light,
Half a kiss, half a tear,
Saying good-night.
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After this night following on such a day.While still my temples ached from the cold burningOf hail and wind, and still the primrosesTorn by the hail were covered up in it,The sun filled earth and heaven with a great lightAnd a tenderness, almost warmth, where the hail dripped,As if the mighty sun wept tears of…
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Like the touch of rain she was
When the joy of walking thusHas taken him by surprise:With the love of the storm he burns,He sings, he laughs, well I know how,But forgets when he returnsAs I shall not forget her ‘Go now’.Those two words shut a doorBetween me and the blessed rainThat was never shut beforeAnd will not open again.
There they stand, on their ends, the fifty fag gots
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