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Year
He rests awhile in the wide 
orchard where bright plum flowers rain. 

He unrolls his pallet to sleep 
inside the humming glade.

"Raiment," he writes in his 
sleepy head, "of leaves and bees. 
An old man puts the best plum 
in his sleeve to bring home 
to his bitter wife.

Why strive when nature is bounteous
and all ills can be made right with
wet sweetness?" 
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