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Not of all my eyes see, wandering on the world, Is anything a milk to the mind so, so sighs deep Poetry to it, as a tree whose boughs break in the sky.
Say it is ashboughs: whether on a December day and furled Fast ?r they in clammyish lashtender combs creep Apart wide and new-nestle at heaven most high.
They touch heaven, tabour on it; how their talons sweep The smouldering enormous winter welkin! May Mells blue and snowwhite through them, a fringe and fray Of greenery: it is old earth’s groping towards the steep Heaven whom she childs us by.
(Variant from line 7.
) b.
They touch, they tabour on it, hover on it[; here, there hurled], With talons sweep The smouldering enormous winter welkin.
[Eye, But more cheer is when] May Mells blue with snowwhite through their fringe and fray Of greenery and old earth gropes for, grasps at steep Heaven with it whom she childs things by.

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