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Poem by Edith Wharton
How golden-clear the sunlight shines Through the long stretch of river-reeds. The water whirls in splintering lines As round the knotted thorn it speeds, Then lapses to a tranquil pool, Where water-spiders spin and sleep, And yellow flower-de-luces cool Their roots in shadowy moisture deep. How still it is, how warm and still! The wood is full of myriad noises From tiny insect-throats that fill The noonday heat with quivering voices— How sweet it is to lie and dream, Deep, deep, in stream-fed reeds and grass, And see along the gliding stream The gliding sunlight pause and pass!
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