< Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf
There was no motion in the dumb dead air,
As that wide forest. Clasping jasmine turned
I knew the flowers, I knew the leaves, I knew
The smell of violets, hidden in the green,
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128
POEMS.
xxiii.
Not any song of bird or sound of rill.
Gross darkness of the inner sepulchre
Is not so deadly still
xxiv.
Its twinèd arms festooning tree to tree,
And at the root thro' lush green grasses burned
The red anemone.
xxv.
The tearful glimmer of the languid dawn
On those long, rank, dark woodwalks drenched in dew,
Leading from lawn to lawn.
xxvi.
Poured back into my empty soul and frame
The times when I remember to have been
Joyful and free from blame.
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