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✦ 90 ✦ Summer Hung on in thirst for butterflies, For stingers and for stains, And wove a web on memory’s eyes Of mead, and mint, and maize. Not ticking time, but ringing flails Drew dawn and dusk together, As dreams of brambles pricked the air And so bewitched the weather. And sometimes—sated, tuckered out— The sunset let cicadas And stars and trees stroll all about The kitchens and the gardens. Not shadows set the moon—but beams— And stayed completely hidden, And soft as soft the darkness streamed, From cloud to cloudlet flitting. More like from dreams than down from eaves, Forgetful more than shy, The drizzle tiptoed down the street And smelled of rose and wine. So smelled the dust. So smelled the weeds. And if we chanced to read them, So smelled as well the gentry’s screeds On brotherhood and freedom. ✦ 91 ✦ Assemblies in the countryside; Did you make your proposals? The days hung down, all sorrel bright . . . And smelled of wine and roses. ...

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