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THUNDERY AFTERNOON
The thunder made an echoed rumour far Off in the south; but nonetheless it spread A muffled drum-roll over meadows near The White Owl Barn, then trundled overhead
Toward the north. The air hung still, confined By solid rain, while lightnings froliced high Above grey-distant fields, faintly- defined In yellow forks thin-fingering the eye.
This storm seemed a poor relation of last Evening's energetic cousins, whose great Battalions conquered shires, like a host Of angels wielding swords hot-forged from light.
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