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Country of the Afternoon

ISSUE:  Spring 1938

There is a peace to keep within the country
The houses of the heart stand spaciously
In sun.
No harm makes here its morning sound;
No wind that slanted to action but lies still
In lifted leaves.
Worker hours climb,
But here is pause above the fruited hill,
Republic on a wide plateau in time.
Light is ripe, in ancient fullness poured
On the bright houses of the afternoon
Whose joy, warm at the hearth and open-doored,
Is of the autumn hour of day.
But night is soon.
And there withdrawn, self-lit, blind-eyed, each heart,
Each house is starred in solitude apart.


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