  Your carmine flakes of bloom to-night The fire of wintry sunsets hold; Again in dreams you burn to light A far Canadian garden old. The blue north summer over it Is bland with long ethereal days; The gleaming martins wheel and flit Where breaks your sun down orient ways. Through quietudes of dusk afar, Hermit antiphonal hermit calls From hills below the first pale star. Then in your passionate love's foredoom Once more your spirit stirs the air, And you are lifted through the gloom To warm the coils of her dark hair.
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