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A Villanelle for Vulcan

by William A. Holt
The shadow of your war-torn days
When your mountains echoed your battle song
Troubles the peace you live to praise.

Amid your red sun's muted rays
One can hardly see, though he linger long,
The shadow of your war-torn days.

But one who knows your ancient ways
Feels how it chills your sober throng,
Troubles the peace you live to praise.

And even now a swift hand slays
If reason calls up, to right some wrong,
The shadow of your war-torn days.

Your wise man neither weeps nor plays,
For the slightest straying from straight and strong
Troubles the peace you live to praise.

Oh, noble race, your hearts ablaze
With the truth-search you've carried so far along,
The shadow of your war-torn days
Troubles the peace you live to praise.



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