Always before, the Spring returned.
The bright world in its cycle spun
In the air and flowers, frass and fern,
Assured and cradled by the sun.
Always before, you could explain
The turning darkness of the earth,
And how that dark embraced the rain,
And gave the ferns and flowers birth.
Already I forget those things,
And how a vein of gold survives
The mining of a thousand springs,
The season of a thousand lives.
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