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@ -80,9 +80,106 @@ To plant their roots in my warm, earthen roof,
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Just they and I, with no need of reproof,
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And thank the thorns for making a hale fence,
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The compost for being my winter blanket.</div>
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<hr />
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<h2 id="analysis">Analysis</h2>
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<h3 id="related">Related</h3>
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<p>“Winter” by Edward Esch</p>
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<div class="verse">I.
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The snow is falling,
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sleeping,
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whispering,
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dreaming of water.
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II.
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Gold, silver, iron, stone;
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pure and gentle, silently melting,
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the sun sings softly through the quiet ice.
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III.
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A single snowflake awakens,
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shimmers,
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glows,
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watches the world with weary eyes,
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darkens,
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settles,
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and disappears.</div>
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<p>From “Mid-Winter Songs” by Morten Lauridsen, text by Robert Graves</p>
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<div class="verse"><em>Lament for Pasiphaë</em>
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Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
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My eye, dazzled with tears, shall dazzle yours
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Conjuring you to shine and not to move
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You, sun, and I all afternoon have laboured
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Beneath a dewless and oppressive cloud–
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A fleece now gilded with our commen grief
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That this must be a night without a moon
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Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
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Faithless she was not: she was very woman
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Smiling with dire impartiality
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Sovereign, with heart unmatched, adored of men
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Until Spring’s cuckoo with bedraggled plumes
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Tempted her pity and her truth betrayed
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Then she who shone for all resigned her being
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And this must be a night without a moon
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Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
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<em>Like Snow</em>
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She, then, like snow in a dark night
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Fell secretly. And the world waked
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With dazzling of the drowsy eye
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So that some muttered ‘Too much light,’
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And drew the curtains close
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Like snow, warmer than fingers feared
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And to soil friendly;
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Holding the histories of the night
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In yet unmelted tracks
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<em>She Tells Her Love While Half Asleep</em>
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She tells her love while half asleep
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In the dark hours
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With half-words whispered low:
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As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
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And puts out grass and flowers
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Despite the snow
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Despite the falling snow
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<em>Mid-Winter Waking</em>
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Stirring suddenly from long hibernation
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I knew myself once more a poet
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Guarded by timeless prinicipalities
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Against the worm of death, this hillside haunting;
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And presently dared open both my eyes
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O gracious, lofty, shone against from under
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Back-of-the-mind-far clouds like towers;
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And you, sudden warm airs that blow
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Before the expected season of new blossom
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While sheep still gnaw at roots and lambless go–
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Be witness that on waking, this mid-winter
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I foudn her hand in mine laid closely
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Who hsall watch out the Spring with me
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We stared in silence all around us
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But found no winter anywhere to see
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<em>Intercession in Late October</em>
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How hard the year dies: no frost yet
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On drifts of yellow sand Midas reclines
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Fearless of moaning reed or sullen wave
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Firm and fragrant still the brambleberries
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On ivy-bloom butterflies wag
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Spare him a little longer, Crone
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For his clean hands and love-submissive heart</div>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-01-01</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-02-07</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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<script type="text/javascript">
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