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Only simple things need be said about this place.

It is for silence and the expanding heart,

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The mind grown quiet. These giant cliffs, aching with light,

Shine from some Xanadu of inner memory.

Rock-falls to the dry canyon, the pellucid

Swift green river and the pines.

Wild as a cry in space the hawk soars, skirting

The distant snow-peaks, the streaked cataracts. Time, moving over rooted granite, mirror-flecked

With mica, lichen-tufted, leaves no stain.

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Enclosed in a translucent lustre unlike air

This vast perfection. Fallen star.

Mysterious fragment, from some distant place,

Of a more perfect planet than we know.

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