I saw your picture
In a newspaper,
As you walked
Hand in Hand,
With a little child,
Through barren sands.
And I wished you,
Irish rain,
And green grass,
And fatted cattle,
And splendid crops
Of melons
And pomegranates.
Because I couldn't
Wish you grace,
You had it.
Nor beauty,
You owned it,
As you walked,
Serene,
Through the fruitless dust
Of Ethiopia. |
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