You too can be a scamp or, better yet, a boutonnière! You are young like a rock. Your flower shares a voice. Ox Eye, Shasta, or (listen up!) True Daisy bring pronation and extension for and towards the utter eye of fields. All applied as grace note at the musical bar. As such, an asterism made among empyrean creatures in the space of just your kindness. Lark on! The flower fills the bold use of day with the interest of colour. And white petal itself serves no single colour but contains them all. All this found in the village mark of flowers. Language makes and makes again, like forests in our time. Flower lifts assonance to song and the ordinary acceptance of astonishment. See Emily Dickinson there in the select company of words. See the world from the towering sunbeam. Cultivate some garden beyond exchequers and the grisling count. Make sun while the hay shines. This packet flies!
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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