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footprint poem

o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
therefore i may not
i love the old melodious lays
the mountains they are silent folk
see, they return
i loathed you
rising moon has hid the stars
with her hair flaying wildly
birds against the april wind
little gate was reached at last
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
in new york harbor
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst

 



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