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First Morning in Town

There still are rushing rivers in my dreams;There still are grinding boulders in the streams;      There still is mountain madness,      Thund’ring down in reckless gladness—Tho I’m safely in my bed in town, it seems. There is still a shining world of ice and snow;There still are steps to slog and miles to go;      There still are fragile bridges,      And windy fearsome ridges,—Tho the city sounds about me all say “No…” There is still a threat’ning avalanche to round;There still are blinding fog banks, summit bound;      I can find no safe belay      Yet the suns ays “Do not stay”…—Then I wake to find I’m home on level ground. I’ll be toiling up sublime eternal heights,I’ll be threading huge seracs by candle lights,      I will pause where none may...

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