He Was Hoarse
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
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He was hoarse
Hoarse
Many a day
And then
He regained the Voice
But little
For soon
Hoarse again
He talked:
Then he bent head
And spoke not
Dawn came next day
And
In the dawn
He found he was not hoarse
And sung
As children sing
As sweet birds sing
And rose
High up to the heavens
His noble voice
Higher
Higher
Higher.
Erect Poet Seer.
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