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THE PASTELLETTE.
“The pastelle is too strong,” said he. “Lo! I will make it fainter yet!” And he wrought with tepid ecstasy A pastellette. A touch—a word—a tone half caught— He softly felt and handled them; Flavor of feeling—scent of thought— Shimmer of gem— That we may read, and feel as he What vague, pale pleasure we can get From this mild, witless mystery,— The pastellette.
Previous: TECHNIQUE.
Next: THE PIG AND THE PEARL.