< Page:Harmonium - Wallace Stevens.djvu
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In the Carolinas
The lilacs wither in the Carolinas.
Already the butterflies flutter above the cabins.
Already the new-born children interpret love
In the voices of mothers.
Timeless mother,
How is it that your aspic nipples
For once vent honey?
The pine-tree sweetens my body.
The white iris beautifies me.
17
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