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 :::WHAT WE SAY

OU have gathered somewhere to you The softness of pastures cool, And the tender, ineffable blue Of the deep leaf-shadowed pool, Where a lovelier sky than ours Sinks down between wavering weeds And the roots of the floating water-flowers Blend with the roots of the reeds,

You have gathered to you somewhere The passion of hyacinth-stains, Where the odorous moss-dark air Is moist with a thousand rains; You have formed your virgin flesh Of the suppliance of crescent moons, And the tender ferns that enmesh The shadows of summer noons.

When my days are yours there passes With primrose-scented showers, The thought of cool deep grasses And beds of cuckoo-flowers; When my nights are yours, my dreams Are full of the flight of swallows, Dipping their wings in rushy streams And shady river-hollows.