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Home Place

Text of Poem

This is the way it was:
the cold warned my feet,
the wind urged me to leave,
the snowfield blinded my paths,
but a buried stump and a straight fence
told me their names.
I listened carefully lest the voice
of the season confuse their speech
and leave me lost in a land
of unknown tongues.
But when their names were said
I knew what landscape lay hidden
under the winter folds,
and while a vagrant wind
stole leaves from a sleeping oak,
I stood my ground.

First Line
This is the way it was:
Original Pub Location
Original Publication Date
Original Citation
The Congregationalist 125 (April 1965) 6.
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