Page:On a grey thread (IA ongreythread00gidl).pdf/41

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Declaration

I am a seed in the dust,
A live root bedded in night,
And I am filled with a lust
For something the worms call light.

From what seed-pod I was blown
Matters little to me,
Why and by whom I was sown
Or what the reaping may be.

I only wait for my hour
When I shall be done with night,
When I shall thrill into flower
And drink till I die of light.

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