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Glass-green the sky and the sea,
Jade-green the trees and the terrible beasts,
Lime-green the long thin trembling clouds,
And the strange moon hanging overhead
Is every shade from palest chrysoprase
Through emerald to almost black
And the alien civilization is one spinel spire
Topped with an odd aventurine dome,
Rising over the scattered glitter
Of our gutted ship. As we sift
Through gilded fragments,
We realize that
Nowhere in this emerald city is there
Any way back to Kansas.