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Orb, v. 2, issue 1, 1950
Page 5
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Gypsies The night was low and still upon the land / When I first heard the fife and violins. / I stopped for fear I'd stepped in wonderland, / Or some such place, alive with manikins. / Their doleful melodies were sung and danced / About a fire, where bright eyed girls were dressed / In youth; where many eyes of crisp, dark, glanced / At babes held tight against a love confessed. / Within the ark of golden light, I saw / The bare emotions of a hundred men / Bound one to one by force of common law: / Each one a perfect, natural citizen. / When I returned again at break of dawn, / I found but ash and memory. They'd gone. Ronald Bourgea
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Gypsies The night was low and still upon the land / When I first heard the fife and violins. / I stopped for fear I'd stepped in wonderland, / Or some such place, alive with manikins. / Their doleful melodies were sung and danced / About a fire, where bright eyed girls were dressed / In youth; where many eyes of crisp, dark, glanced / At babes held tight against a love confessed. / Within the ark of golden light, I saw / The bare emotions of a hundred men / Bound one to one by force of common law: / Each one a perfect, natural citizen. / When I returned again at break of dawn, / I found but ash and memory. They'd gone. Ronald Bourgea
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