The Wasp Trap

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The Wasp Trap

This moonlight makes

The lovely lovelier

Than ever before lakes

And meadows were.

And yet they are not,

Though this their hour is, more

Lovely than things that were not

Lovely before.

Nothing on earth,

And in the heavens no star,

For pure brightness is worth

More than that jar,

For wasps meant, now

A star⁠—long may it swing

From the dead apple-bough,

So glistening.