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The Spike Golden Jubilee Number May 1949

II — After



That long and upward saunter through the pines,
Heart in heart we walked back over the dam
And stumbled over the roots that lined.
The track like veins, the spurs ahead
Fitted like fingers and bled slow streams.

All that was gold of the day was mined,
The wind's cadenza through the trees
Was our signature in air;
But evening put a stop to singing
Though bloods's song echoes now
And still is mine.