...Where the geyser has no head
and the river's race is red
Where the rabbit's keen rings wild
'round six stark-kneed storks beguiled
Where the craters' kissing calm
rocks the blossoms' sleeping psalm...
There my blue-eyed sun shall drain
his draught of winds-wept laughter-rain
And from the straylight star-fields glean
the mower's milk, the wayward's wean
Aug. 9, 2014
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