Bloomfield's Lullaby. To Bloomfield now we go to see the sunlight bare, And crack across the pavement of the blue sky. To see light drool on a cottage with table and chair, Beaming glint and glaze from a warm pot of comfort. Peace: whistles of the wind, Racing through the silent craggy land. Buttercups knock heads on windows and doors, Nothing stirs this drowsy house.
Respect!
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