Indian Summer
C
Clark Ashton Smith
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Surely these muted days are one with days remembered,
This necromantic sun is an evocation
Of suns whereunder we have walked before:
For when I see the peach-trees
Flame-colored and far off
Where the blueness of the air has crept among them,
The love I feel today
Somehow resumes the bygone flames and shadows,
The vanished incommunicable moods
And fugitive lost colors
Of the love I felt for you in autumns past.
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