Page:Harmonium - Wallace Stevens.djvu/135

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XAt the sight of blackbirdsFlying in a green light,Even the bawds of euphonyWould cry out sharply.
XIHe rode over ConnecticutIn a glass coach.Once, a fear pierced him,In that he mistookThe shadow of his equipageFor blackbirds.
XIIThe river is moving.The blackbird must be flying.
XIIIIt was evening all afternoon.It was snowingAnd it was going to snow.The blackbird satIn the cedar-limbs.

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