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The Cranes of Ibicus

 Here was a man who watched the river flow 
Past the huge town, one gray November day.
Round him in narrow high-piled streets at play The boys made merry as they saw him go, Murmuring half-loud, with eyes upon the stream, The immortal screed he held within his hand.
For he was walking in an April land With Faust and Helen.
Shadowy as a dream Was the prose-world, the river and the town.
Wild joy possessed him; through enchanted skies He saw the cranes of Ibycus swoop down.
He closed the page, he lifted up his eyes, Lo--a black line of birds in wavering thread Bore him the greetings of the deathless dead!

by Emma Lazarus
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