Autumn morns, for their dews;
Tree-hanging, trudged ways in.
Summer eves, for their raindrops;
Frog-eyed out dried fen.
Melancholic, moving, yes; when
Lone, on Earth, plundered!
Say, will they so glitter
As much where I'm going?
Up out through whose broader-lit
Day, timeless, unknown.
That fancied marvel, full-blown:
Heaven's enflowered.
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