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| Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull
The dusty attic spider-clad
Meantime his golden face around
Above the hills, along the blue,
Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson |
Follow-Up Postings:
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| Another of the greats, as much as we need the sun we also try to hide from him. Regulating the sun is no easy task. |
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