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Wallace Stevens - In The Carolinas
Work rating: Low

The lilacs wither in the Carolinas.
	Already the butterflies flutter above the cabins.
	Already the new-born children interpret love
	In the voices of mothers.

	Timeless mothers,
	How is it that your aspic nipples
	For once vent honey?

	The pine-tree sweetens my body
	The white iris beautifies me.
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