Almost every time out
At least once it comes
When I stop to listen and look
Standing still in the dumb beauty
Of some waste place
Of some waste place
Some forgotten back lot
Some weedy haunt
Even without hearing
The warbled song
Or seeing the flash
Or seeing the flash
Of its red crown
Or white throat
It comes in a rush
It comes in a rush
And lifts me on its holy wings.
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