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SONNET: 4, 9, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Here, where the red man swept the leaves away
Last Line: As though I walked the wood with sagamore george.


Here, where the red man swept the leaves away
To dig for cordial bark or cooling root,
The wayside apple drops its surly fruit.
Right through the deep heart of his midmost wood,
Through range and river and swampy solitude,
The common highway landward runs today,
The train booms by with long derisive hoot
And, following fast, rise factory, school, and forge.
I heed them not; but where you alders shoot,
Searching strange plants to medicine my mood--
With a quick savage sense I stop, or stray
Through the brush pines and up the mountain gorge:
With patient eye, and with as safe a foot,
As though I walked the wood with sagamore George.





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