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| SMOKE of autumn is on it all. | |
| The streamers loosen and travel. | |
| The red west is stopped with a gray haze. | |
| They fill the ash trees, they wrap the oaks, | |
| They make a long-tailed rider | 5 |
In the pocket of the first, the earliest evening star.
. . . | |
| Three muskrats swim west on the Desplaines River. | |
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| There is a sheet of red ember glow on the river; it is dusk; and the muskrats one by one go on patrol routes west. | |
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| Around each slippery padding rat, a fan of ripples; in the silence of dusk a faint wash of ripples, the padding of the rats going west, in a dark and shivering river gold. | |
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| (A newspaper in my pocket says the Germans pierce the Italian line; I have letters from poets and sculptors in Greenwich Village; I have letters from an ambulance man in France and an I. W. W. man in Vladivostok.) | 10 |
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I lean on an ash and watch the lights fall, the red ember glow, and three muskrats swim west in a fan of ripples on a sheet of river gold.
. . . | |
| Better the blue silence and the gray west, | |
| The autumn mist on the river, | |
| And not any hate and not any love, | |
| And not anything at all of the keen and the deep: | 15 |
| Only the peace of a dog head on a barn floor, | |
| And the new corn shoveled in bushels | |
| And the pumpkins brought from the corn rows, | |
| Umber lights of the dark, | |
| Umber lanterns of the loam dark. | 20 |
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| Here a dog head dreams. | |
| Not any hate, not any love. | |
| Not anything but dreams. | |
| Brother of dusk and umber. | |
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