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Sonnet: ‘le Vierge, Le Vivace…’

The virginal, living and lovely day
Will it fracture for us with a drunken wing-blow
This solid lost lake whose frost’s haunted below
By the transparent glacier of flights not made?

A swan from time past remembers it’s he
Magnificent yet freeing himself hopelessly
Through not having sung of a liveable country
In the radiant boredom of winter’s sterility.

His neck will shake off this whitest agony
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