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4. | IV |
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![]() | The poems of Trumbull Stickney | ![]() |
IV
Be patient, very patient; for the skiesWithin my human soul now sunset-flushed
Break desperate magic on the world I knew,
And in the crimson evening flying down
Bell-sounds and birds of ancient ecstasy
Most wonderfully carol one time more.
![]() | The poems of Trumbull Stickney | ![]() |