bemusing musings of a bewildered brush-wielder

new hampshire

June Nights

In summer, when day has fled, the plain covered with flowers

Pours out far away an intoxicating scent;

Eyes shut, ears half open to noises,

We only half sleep in a transparent slumber.

The stars are purer, the shade seems pleasanter;

A hazy half-day colours the eternal dome;

And the sweet pale dawn awaiting her hour

Seems to wander all night at the bottom of the sky.

-Victor Hugo

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