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TWILIGHT

On burnished wings of gold, the day lay down
its weary head and fell into a sleep
like satin. A stray breeze removed its crown
and breathed on it, polishing its aura
to an iridescing keenness so deep,
so lustrous that it appeared sunbeam-blown,
radiating light like an aurora
spun from fire to equal the stars' renown.

MP 301023

◄ SONNET: REALIST, OR CYNIC (DEVIL'S ADVOCATE)

AFTER READING YEATS ►

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