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Unpigeonholed

by Norman Gale

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22

[Monotonies that never weary us]

Monotonies that never weary us
Are consolations. Should a runlet sing
Its verse of ripples twenty thousand times
Within my notice, glad were I to stay
Near marigolds and cresses in the hope
That difference might not mingle with the tune.
Consider wooddoves also. These contain
A brevity of music, yet it drops—
Resembling thus a wayside balm of old—
Upon the edges of a mental wound
Assuring solaces. For other proof,
The kitten purring on the buffet here
At night will never vary from her low
Monotonous same, and yet will never vex
My mind at work on webs of viewless silk,
Although she purr till Doomsday. Rivulet,
Wooddove, puss, three murmurings of delight,
Are voiced so winningly that none can plead
To have their soundings other than they are.