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The Bridge: The Dance

Rating: 3.1

The swift red flesh, a winter king—
Who squired the glacier woman down the sky?
She ran the neighing canyons all the spring;
She spouted arms; she rose with maize—to die.

And in the autumn drouth, whose burnished hands
With mineral wariness found out the stone
Where prayers, forgotten, streamed the mesa sands?
He holds the twilight’s dim, perpetual throne,

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Phyllis Kegley 22 September 2020

Today I learned from public radio that Copland's " Appalachian Spring" partly was inspired by this poem. So I looked it up. Frankly, I couldn't follow it. I need a knowledgable person to help me understand.

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John Pendrey 06 February 2018

Brilliant, vast spiritual vision.

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