The Purpled Cypress
A shinin' morn of March calls me uphill
And I go west down a sunset vale.
The day my flying flag shall gently vail
Looms in the dusk of the beclouded still.
Where a purpled cypress stands in wait
Beside a gateway in the golden ruins
My heart descries the end of all my doings
And a new entrance in beyond the gate.
My heart prepares to cross in no time
The sea between the end and the beginning
To win me a new morrow and thus winning
A breath and respite after dive and climb.
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