Hanna Brisbois

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On this long storm the rainbow rose, On this late morn the sun; The clouds, like listless elephants, Horizons straggled down. The birds rose smiling in their nests, The gales indeed were done; Alas! how heedless were the eyes On whom the summer shone! The quiet nonchalance of death No daybreak can bestir; The slow archangel’s syllables Must awaken her.
Collected Poems
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