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About This Poem
till the maidens return
off to niger’s brimful banks
where the weaver-birds
had their lofty nests
there the trees are ever-green
there old hatching eggs burst-ready
with new wings for the first flights
& the water-torrents point
to her hidden chambers
while the early frost cool the azure
there we dwell & hope to dwell
till niger’s maidens return
like eaglets of the jungle
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