Slowly Turns the Earth

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With breath of waking
begins summer’s day,

first a whisper
and then a kiss.

Mist descends
through glistening leaves;

veils of steam rise
from living streams.

Darkness nearly done,
broad day contends and wins
bright fields of the sun,

’til blazing noon,
(spent heat of youth wilting
to lustrous night) dies.

Then wrapped in starry sheets
again we sleep.

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