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Appreciation

Rating: 2.8

Earth was not Earth before her sons appeared,
Nor Beauty Beauty ere young Love was born:
And thou when I lay hidden wast as morn
At city-windows, touching eyelids bleared;
To none by her fresh wingedness endeared;
Unwelcome unto revellers outworn.
I the last echoes of Diana's horn
In woodland heard, and saw thee come, and cheered.
No longer wast thou then mere light, fair soul!
And more than simple duty moved thy feet.

New colours rose in thee, from fear, from shame,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kayode Are 26 March 2018

What to appreciate is not newness but awareness, not what is, but what is read of it.

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