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Vachel Lindsay - The Drunkards In The StreetVachel Lindsay - The Drunkards In The Street
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The Drunkards in the street are calling one another, Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, Publicans and wantons Calling, laughing, calling, While the Spirit bloweth Space and Time away. Why should I feel the sobbing, the secrecy, the glory, This comforter, this fitful wind divine? I the cautious Pharisee, the scribe, the whited sepulchre I have no right to God, he is not mine. Within their gutters, drunkards dream of Hell. I say my prayers by my white bed to-night, With the arms of God about me, with the angels singing, singing Until the grayness of my soul grows white.
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