A Year Passes
Beyond the porcelain fence of the pleasure garden, I hear the frogs in the blue-green rice-fields ; But the sword-shaped moon Has cut my heart in two.
Amy Lowell
Beyond the porcelain fence of the pleasure garden, I hear the frogs in the blue-green rice-fields ; But the sword-shaped moon Has cut my heart in two.
A speaker lingers inside a pleasure garden, enclosed by a delicate porcelain fence. The garden is lovely, but it is also a place set apart—more ornamental than alive.
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