| I saw the slot of the sun
|
| The final cut of the sun
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| Start like a hare
|
| Over the shoddy grey walls
|
| I saw you dimple and crease
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| Turn a card from the pack by your bed
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| As those swords, cups, discs, and wands
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| Might tumble into your head
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| And give you a glimmer of something profound
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| But your gods lay no sound
|
| The gods made no sound
|
| Your gods made no sound
|
| You were cartwheel and somersault
|
| But not at your ease
|
| I was not at my ease
|
| As through unfolding vistas
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| Of dullness and deadness
|
| I saw the metal buckets
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| Fatigued and buckled
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| With nimbus of rustflowers
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| And sheds by the lake
|
| I was already falling
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| And fallen and lost
|
| And it was not at your cost
|
| And I was not at my ease
|
| And it was not at your cost
|
| By aimless pools with no surprise
|
| I counted the flickerings of your eyes
|
| And I saw the magical bird
|
| In the magical woods
|
| Fly over the hills
|
| And far away
|
| From the sea, it’s you I see
|
| By the glowing seashore, it was you that I saw
|
| The magical bird in the magical woods |