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Mississippi

Godless, but not gone.

Thoughtless and thankless but not wrong,

and down in Mississippi

I gave my song away,

Down below the line I drew

to keep myself at bay.

Somehow, less than two years later,

southern sawdust saw us blind

in a clearing in a sparser place

than ever I intended.

What a woman! What a night!

This thing that I defended

is godless, but not gone;

intelligent and radiant and strong,

enveloping the wooded skyline

with joyous shadows long

and lengthening.

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