The green grass heaves soul flights,
Calling mind menacingly to roll round
Earth’s inscapes, instressing the movement down
Of the eagle’s sharp sights, the sparrow’s plights.
Thou maker and taker of life’s lining screens,
Dost dip finger in the bowl of fascinating spice;
Killing with joy and cloying with all that is nice,
The changing blues above and down below the greens.
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