2013-07-11


Summer
-- W. S. Merwin (1960)  
Be of this brightness dyed
Whose unrecking fever
Flings gold before it goes
Into voids finally
That have no measure. 
Bird-sleep, moonset,
Island after Island,
Be of their hush
On this tide that balance
A time, for a time.  
Islands are not forever,
Nor this light again,
Tide-set, brief summer,
Be of their secret
That fears no other.




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