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Show FUGITIVES- They say our best Illusions soonest fly-Bright, fly-Bright, many Mited birds on ralnbew wing, Adown the dim Cava valleys vanishing Long ere our noon be white upon the sky ; Nay, never so, in sooth; ourselves go by, Leaving the sun that shines, the birds that, sing, . Tho haay, golden glamours of the spring, The summer dawnlng's clear obscurity. O, woven sorceries of sun and sha'e ! O, bare brown downs by grassland glad and green 1 Deep, haunted woods, with shadows thick be-tween; be-tween; Youug leaves, with every year, new-born, remade; Fair are ye still, and fair have ever been -While we, ephemera, but fail and fade. Orahtm B. Thompson. |