human
, For oft by favor of thy visitings I feel the dimness of an Indian night, And lo! the sun is coming. Red as rust Between the latticed blind his presence burns, A ruby ladder running up the wall; And all the dust, printed with pigeons' feet, Is reddened, and the crows that stalk anear Begin to trail for heat their glossy wings, And the red flowers give back at once the dew, For night is gone, and day is born so fast, And is so strong, that, huddled as in flight, The fleeting darkness paleth to a shade, And while she calls to sleep and dreams
gpt
Come on,