At_Last

But don't you quite see What a blind man can feel? These are the lines Of the march of the drummers, Not cattle paths, fields, Along mountains or streams, But attack lines Of club'ers and gun'ers. It is not I who've strayed From the way better taken Nor blinded by maps Such as these that you've shown.

I live on the corner Of Justice and Right. Don't tell me, I know the way home.

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