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Sunday, October 31, 2004
YOUR BEST HALLOWEEN NIGHT ACCESSORY In the Elegy Season By Richard Wilbur Haze, char, and the weather of All Souls': A giant absence mopes upon the trees. Leaves cast in casual potpourris Whisper their scents from pits and cellar-holes. Or brewed in gulleys, steeped in wells, they spend In chilly steam their last aromas, yield From shallow hells a revenance of field And orchard air. And now the envious mind Which could not hold the summer in my head While bounded by their blazing circumstance Parades these barrens in a golden trance, Remembering the wealthy season dead, And by an autumn inspiration makes A summer all its own. Green boughs arise Through all the boundless backward of the eyes, And the soul bathes in warm conceptual lakes. Less proud than this, my body leans an ear Past cold and colder weather after wings' Soft commotion, the sudden race of springs, The goddess' tread heard on the dayward stair, Longs for the brush of the freighted air, for smells Of grass and cordial lilac, for the sight Of green leaves building into the light And azure water hoisting out of wells. |