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The Infidel
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The Infidel

Dixie McCarty

Jul 12
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The Infidel
www.deadpoetsdaily.com
All through the breathless yellow afternoon
The woman watched the desert from her door,
Her bitter lips unmoving, tired eyes seeing
Only the desolation seen before.

But when the gray hills knelt in purple shadows,
As monks who tell their beads at close of day,
She lit the lamp, and closed the door and windows—
For fear that she also might learn to pray.
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The Infidel
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