Bidding us twain upon thy glory call. Harsh light hath rent from us the golden pall Of that frail sleep, His first light seigniory, And we are come through all the modes that fall Unto their lot who meet him constantly.
“When something shines up on the sidewalk or down in the grass, it strikes me as if it were here what I might have been looking for all this time.”
Maja Vidmar | “The Magpie”
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