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QUEST
QUEST
All beneath a wintering skyFollow the wastrel butterfly;With vermilion leaf or bronze—Tatters of gorgeous gonfalons—With the winds that always holdEcho of clarions lost and old,—We must hasten, hasten onTow'rd the azure world withdrawn,We must wander, wander soWhere the ruining roses go;Where the poplar's pallid leavesDrift among the gathered sheavesIn that harvest none shall glean;Where the twisted willows leanIn their strange, tormented woe,Seeing, on the streamlet's flowHalf their fragile leaves depart;Where the secret pines at heart,High, funereal, vespertine,Guard eternal sorrows green:—We shall follow, we shall find,Haply, ere the light is blind,The moulded place where Beauty lay,Moon-beheld until the day,In the woven windlestrae;Or the pool of tourmaline,Rimmed with golden reeds, that wasIn the dawn a tiring-glassFor her undelaying mien.
Ever wander, wander so,Where the ruining roses go;All beneath a wintering sky,Follow the wastrel butterfly.
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