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While we that surfeit, nap, as calyx'd bées,
Who murmurs, still pursuing imageries
… « Like Jewish candelabras ». (relight mine!)
Rising as to welcome a newcomer
The flute pipes to the first eve of the summer
—Nocturnal nature moves to minor bars—
A golden crescent in a druid's tree
Reminds her that the forest has a key
—And out she goes to serenade the stars!
— 22 —
