The great tent on the lawn, wherein presently we are to sup,—blue and yellow without, and within all braveries of tapestry and of table service,—suggests a state pavilion of the Sophy camped for glittering war.
nonruby muscovite
As by a leaf to fling On the glass of wind Or up transparent leaf-sides over and over Uphand to swing Into the airy sockets of light And the broad plates tread like a bird Kissing light.
sad bread
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