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I can imagine, in some otherworld Primeval-dumb, far back in that most awful stillness, that only gasped and hummed, Humming-birds raced down the avenues.
Before anything had a soul, While life was a heave of Matter, half inanimate,This little bit chipped off in brilliance and went whizzing through the slow, vast, succulent stems.
I believe there were no flowers, then, in the world where the humming-bird flashed ahead of creation. I believe he pierced the slow vegetable veins with his long beak.
Probably he was big as mosses, and little lizards, they say were once big. Probably he was a jabbing, terrifying monster. We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time, Luckily for us.

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