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A Pastoral

Rating: 3.0

Nature feels the touch of noon;
   Not a rustle stirs the grass;
Not a shadow flecks the sky,
Save the brown hawk hovering nigh;
   Not a ripple dims the glass
   Of the wide lagoon.

Darkly, like an armed host
   Seen afar against the blue,
Rise the hills, and yellow-grey

Sleeps the plain in cove and bay,
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7/26/2021 10:26:07 PM # 1.0.0.664