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CDXXXI
Cezanne's Mount Sainte-Victoire
Sounds & scents swirl in the evening wind

whose breathings are guessed at
half to be dressed in immemorial epitaph

half denuded by th'moon
& by th'sunshine skinned

--But do not believe me so soon

for my lips are stilled though grinned
and my mouth is small

half with eternity

& half Th'Lyrical) withal
th'Whole of my poetry.

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