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151 Affection never rides home with wholesale wings. They were torrid and a baby’s voice smells like a raft. And the river hot and blue . . . . . is cold, evaporating             on the screen. when the first tree blossoms Snow fall like April; the icicles stick.    Like April the birds float. It is white foam. Like April when the first tree blossoms and you do not know it. passivation if the corroding 1    O great world that trains me! that loses my head in the balance of coordination, even when I’m ripe. I sting myself.    O warm world, O green ragged blood     of after dawn as we come out singing to hear some evening birds sing.    There’s no use to ask me to mind the nest, I forget. Why do you live in the lapwing marshes? ...

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