“I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray,
Those fields sparse-planted, rendering meagre sheaves;
That spring, briefer than apple-blossom’s breath,
Summer, so much too beautiful to stay,
Swift autumn, like a bonfire of leaves,
And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death.”

—  Elinor Wylie, book Nets to Catch the Wind

4
Nets to Catch the Wind (1921), Wild Peaches

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Elinor Wylie9
American poet 1885–1928

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