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Entry tags:
assessment
a sort of echo of the summer's heat
we steal this beauty from the hand of time
yet we account it neither fault nor crime
from other clarity we may retreat
but up this hill we want with joy to climb
a sort of echo of the summer's heat
we for a moment pause and taste the sweet
and do not listen for the chiding chime
briefly we know the world to be sublime
a sort of echo of the summer's heat