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Poems - Michael Goodnight - Editor

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And dream they see their childStarved in desert wild.Pale through pathless waysThe fancied image strays,Famished, weeping, weak,With hollow piteous shriek.Rising from unrest,The trembling woman pressedWith feet of weary woe;She could no further go.In his arms he boreHer, armed with sorrow sore;Till before their wayA couching lion lay.Turning back was vain:Soon his heavy maneBore them to the ground,Then he stalked around,

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