Soft tears turned hot lay lost
In the alien clang
Of cavernous vernaculars.
But soft!
A lost thought's toss - caught clay may cause
The mind a loss of heyday.
Hello bitter May!
The bitterns stay.
Sun's slantering ray,
Like gold chopped on every different way.
Hello subnumerary February - r not lost.
Hot off-water-glint spangles
Candles in the dusk-light.
And the sprinkling sparkling
Stars stand stellate,
And every face is gladly glossed,
With play.
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