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The poet judges not as a judge judges but as the sun falling around a helpless thing
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I cease my song for thee, From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee,...
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I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. ...
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The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.
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Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,...
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