Words, like flowers, have their colors too.
With the wings of a bird and the heart of a man he compass'd his flight, And the cities and seas, as he flew, were like smoke at his feet. He lived a great life while we slept, in the dark of the night, And went home by the mariners' road, down the stars' empty street.
I saw the sunlight in a leafy place, Bathing itself in liquid green and amber-- Where every flower had tears hid in its petals, And every leaf was lovely with the rain.
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