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Ursula Bethellonline works |
October Morning The birds sing; all clear the rain-scoured firmament, All clear the still blue horizontal sea; And what, all white again? all white the long line of the mountains. And clear on sky’s sheer blue intensity. Gale raved night-long, but all clear, now, in the sunlight And sharp, earth-scented air, a fair new day. The jade and emerald squares of far-spread cultivated All clear, and powdered foot-hills, snow-fed waterway, And every black pattern of plantation made near; All clear, the city set . . . but oh for taught interpreter, To translate the quality, the excellence, for initiate seer To tell the essence of this hallowed clarity, Reveal the secret meaning of the symbol: ‘clear.’
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