52
May I tell you about this day in May
When I sound in the singing madness of birds
Which in green streams of leaves sink down and dissolve
When new leaves suck the juice of stones to melt
And old stones swallow wind to swell and swoon
And the wind breathes the light to stifle in glow
When the light is insane from the madness of birds
When in May I am telling this to you?
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