The death of season color

There’s a certain slant of light, On a Spring evening, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt it gives us; We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the meanings are. None may teach it anything, `Tis the seal, despair, An imperial affliction, Sent us of air. When it comes, the landscape listens, Shadows hold their breathe; When it goes, it’s like the distance On the look of death. The Peace loving eternal abode, And the palace of blessings, One like you With the gracious heart, Has reserved the thorn While escaping from the world.

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