Parading

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft —John Keats
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
—John Keats

atoms

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