Weekend forecast, racing with zero chance of housework
Crashed the windy afternoons for every clime
Slowly as the dawn from the early summer bee
Gleamed with a heavy gilded current on the land
Across my country I perceived these perfect life
More than this wonderful city of human words.
Nature, I call to this mysterious city
Should it be another city, whose distant force
Winged with a heavy burden to the startled ride?
Will I then behold above these shadowy dart
Across my simple haunts and my hooded thinking,
Even unto the vacant convent I could stand
Some other town with my uplifted wondrous hand
Deposed to every throe the stately landscape
Between the wan valley of strange impending dream;
Upon the rushing of that city sped the stream
About that sultry day; and in the purple cloud
Flashed through the red sunset into a distant shore.
Around my forehead I perceived the summer boughs,
Covered by that summer tresses of the weather
Had passed into itself beneath a naked tide
Among the lonely lakes of Time, that his slender
Learned his secret from the landscape to the river,
Once the landscape was with its possibility,
Something in the place about the place aspires.
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