In May Days by Ralph Waldo Emerson
When the south–wind, in May days,
With a net of shining haze,
Silvers the horizon wall,
And with softness touching all,
Tints the human countenance
With a colour of romance,
And infusing subtle heats
Turns the sod to violets—
Thou in sunny solitudes,
Rover of the underwoods,
The green silence dust displace
With thy mellow breezy bass.
Still Life by Paul Gauguin (1881)
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