To. R. W.

There are more dawns than the one
Uprising of the sun.
There is a moon-dawn whose soft-flooding light
Makes a nocturnal day of night.
The whippoorwill's the moon-dawn's lark, he sings,
The immitigable passion of dumb things:
In shadowy woods a thousand night-things cry,
Unnumbered meadows lute in large reply.
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