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Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed! Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes, And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon, Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide, And the lion glares thro' the dun forest: The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.
To the Evening Star: William Blake, 1789
Moon and seagull (7.1.10): photo by Tom Raworth, 2010
Hove Lanes, East and West (24.2.10): photo by Tom Raworth, 2010
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El Hombre
The evening star
The courage to walk alone
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