The Wasp Trap
THIS moonlight makesThe lovely lovelierThan ever before lakesAnd meadows were.
And yet they are not,Though this their hour is, moreLovely than things that were notLovely before.
Nothing on earth,And in the heavens no star,For pure brightness is worthMore than that jar,
For wasps meant, nowA star--long may it swingFrom the dead apple-bough,So glistening.
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