Is the majesty of summers, dragging his robe
Of incandescence through the yellow fields,
Whose blinding draught the children of the earth
Absorb with gaping mouth when not even a breeze
Can shudder in the glistered open sky. Men,
If you would die to life, raise your eyes too,
Drink in the light whose pulsing language licks
The afternoon.
After Leconte de Lisle
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