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Her mist of primroses within her breast / Twilight hath folded up, and o'er the west, / Seeking remoter valleys long hath gone, / Not yet hath come her sister of the dawn.
Silence and coolness now the earth enfold: / Jewels of glittering green, long mists of gold, / Hazes of nebulous silver veil the height, / And shake in tremors through the shadowy night.