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Aztec

 You came from the Aztecs
With a copper on your fore-arms
Tawnier than a sunset
Saying good-by to an even river.
And I said, you remember, Those fore-arms of yours Were finer than bronzes And you were glad.
It was tears And a path west and a home-going when I asked Why there were scars of worn gold Where a man's ring was fixed once On your third finger.
And I call you To come back before the days are longer.

Poem by Carl Sandburg
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