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Changes, days, lives
A long road in a place I do
not know;
the day is wearing, origins grow dark
the mind keeps close the slender thoughts that grow
by some connection with the past; they mark

the impress of those unrecalling roads
which hold determinate the present way.
That moon so insular, beyond the modes
of my own mental moons, aloft in day,

now fathoms out the night. A line of trees,
which, never seen by me before, prosects
a vast and engrossed sun: and nightfalls ease
weighs up, enfolds where shadowing elects

the long and loose identity; each cloud,
distinct, reveals a metamorphic name
within its shape. And so are days endowed
as if to mean: my self the same.

Changes, Days, Lives - titles and first lines
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