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Weekly Contest #77
The building was a tower before me, Time was loud behind me, Sun went over the housetops and dusty trees; And there they were, glistening, brilliant, motionless, Stitched in a golden sky By yellow patient fingers long since turned to dust. III The first bell is silver, And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time. The second bell is crimson, And I think of a holiday night, with rockets Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars. The third bell is saffron and slow, And I behold a long sunset over th...
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