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Follow This Path

ISSUE:  Winter 1931

FOLLOW this path, though not too blindly, and follow Past the last half-lit sleeping cottage slowly This nettle edged road.
Go over the hill.
Slowly Pursue the trail of the last dusk-tainted swallow Toward the clump of moth-haunted, forsaken Junipers, sighing to one another, sighing Into the faint, parched night.
Here there are lying Treasures waiting and waiting, but not to be taken By any. but him who has climbed through these silver spun meadows
And under these satyr-faced trees and over the singing Blood mottled marshes below them, without the thin ringing Of fear in his heart, and his heart unmindful of shadows.
Follow the path if you dare; but in me the wonder Is great, and I fear the white creatures that wander a-weeping
Crazily over the grasses where others are sleeping Their bitter and binding sleep; and I fear the slender Sorrowful voices that sing where the junipers are,
More silent than those of the trees and more awful by far.


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