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A Gift to Hofshteyn
Take me in under your wing
and be unto me mother and sister
and let your breast be my head’s rest,
home of my lonely prayers.
At the hour of mercy, at sunset,
list and I’ll reveal my sorrow’s root…
From the top of a spire’s tower
A ringing’s heard—once. Again.
In the chasms of night and land of snow
A little village sunken low.
Overnight, human isles of rest
Warmed by the straw.
Close with…