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Poetry: History

 

 

Vancouver, 1956

It was all too easy, then:
the sun rose sparkling and clear
over lullaby blue seas, and God
walked in splendour across
the arrayed glory of our mountains.

And we grew tall in warm, airy summers,
and the dazzling downpours of
the season between.
                          And
we were rich, then:  homes
sprang from the lawns like
dandelions in May, and children, too,
sprang from the houses, running,
in bib overalls and clear sunshine,
smiles untroubled by duty or
discipline, sprang from the houses
and ran on new sidewalks to
new schools, with new books and
known truths, easily taught,
in the easy, airy springtimes,
kept clean by
               God's tears
from the mountains.

We grew tall, but not strong,
and God walked in splendour across
the careless, ebbing sea,
trailing glory, and turned His face
toward the music of the hungry.  
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