Sowing
IT was a perfect dayFor sowing; justAs sweet and dry was the groundAs tobacco-dust.
I tasted deep the hourBetween the farOwl's chuckling first soft cryAnd the first star.
A long stretched hour it was;Nothing undoneRemained; the early seedsAll safely sown.
And now, hark at the rain,Windless and light,Half a kiss, half a tear,Saying good-night.
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