CRAZED

I know a pool where nightshade preens

Her poisonous fruitage in the moon;

Where the frail aspen her shadow leans

In midnight cold a-swoon.

I know a meadow flat with gold—

A million million burning flowers

In noon-sun's thirst their buds unfold

Beneath his blazing showers.

I saw a crazèd face, did I,

Stare from the lattice of a mill,

While the lank sails clacked idly by

High on the windy hill.

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