Even the stars cried
when they wrote our fate.
The night also sighed
and hasn't slept till date.
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James Hearst called that year ''my nineteenth year where footsteps end. ... Also thanks to the State Historical Society of Iowa, which sup- ... poems here to please even the most hard-eyed literary critics: pow- ... Nor to the sighing music of the wind upon the wheat. ... Complexions of fields dulled by the months they have slept.
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