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The stars are soft as flowers, and as near;
  The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun;
No separate leaf or single blade is here-
  All blend to one.

No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light
  Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest.
There is no edged thing in all this night,
  Save in my breast.

Added: 25 Nov 2001 | Last Read: 12 Sep 2026 3:44 AM | Viewed: 5651 times

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