2 min read
Heat
From plains that reel to southward, dim,
The road runs by me white and bare;
Up the steep hill it seems to
Beyond, and melt into the glare
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From plains that reel to southward, dim,
The road runs by me white and bare;
Up the steep hill it seems to
Beyond, and melt into the glare
In summer's heat and mid-time of the day,
To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay,
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gave such light as twinkles in a