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PAR T TheDusk ofHorses Right under their noses, the green Ofthe field is paling away Because ofsomething fallen from the sky. They see this, and put down Their long heads deeper in grass That only just escapes reflecting them As the dream ofa millpond would. The color green flees over the grass Like an insect, following the red sun over The next hill. The grass is white. There is no cloud so dark and white at once; There is no pool at dawn that deepens Their faces and thirsts as this does. Now they are feeding on solid Cloud, and, one by one, With nails as silent as stars among the wood Hewed down years ago and now rotten, The stalls are put up around them. Now ifthey lean, they come On wood on any side. Not touching it, they sleep. No beast ever lived who understood What happened among the sun's fields, Or cared why the color ofgrass Fled over the hill while he stumbled, The Dusk ofHorses / I35 ONE ...

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