Letters to Calendar

Light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies
Every existence has its idiom, every thing has an idiom and tongue
The voice, the words
Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us
Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the
Roof, the masons are calling for mortar
She does not tarry to smooth her hair nor adjust her cap
The question, O me! so sad, recurringWhat good amid these, O me, O life?

O my body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and
Commerce opening, the sleep of ages having done its work, races
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul
Land in the realms of God to be a realm unto thyself
Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy
Never again return
Dark-colord sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves
Repeat at Jerusalem, place the notice high on jaffas gate and on

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