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Show IN THE WOODS. Come Into the dim forest of old slcp: Wander with me, and I will lead you deep Through paths of sun-warmed grasses and chill ferns, Into the shadow where a green flame burns. Hark! the swift rustle, wings among the leaves, The curve of a dark, sudden flight, that leaves A quiver in the branches: dusky throats Sob happily, a ripple of soft notes Begins to soothe the silence back again. But listen, for the tiny voice of rain Whimpers among the pattering leaves; they cry With easy, shining tears, the sun will dry Off their sleek faces; and the earth breathes In The breath of rain, and nimble winds begin be-gin To shake the hoarded odor of the wood Out like a spendthrift. Cannot you and I Forget to not be friends? This Is July. . Arthur 8ymons In London Saturday Review. |