A Hundred Poems - Xvi
The morning eye do I love
it see a new day untouched
a breath of sight so grand
a peace-inner speak-eye
tussle the bed sheet, a flag
that Nation for the sleeper
my Anthem made of murmur
whisper-speak my tender love
and each morning i awaken
do i see my Nation next to me
that Anthem her name and lips
and her voice angelic bliss.
:: - ::
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