A bit of light from the setting sun,
Lingered on in your wineglass,
As you sat on your front steps
After the last guest had departed,
Watching the darkness come,
The first firefly set out tipsily
Over the lawn carrying a lantern
Like a player in a masque miming
Some scene of madness or despair,
The other players still in hiding,
The wind and the leaves providing
The sole musical accompaniment.
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