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A View Of The Harbor (2)




Money is light:
      at every window
a thousand, a million,
      beams and beckons,

wheels wheel
      to weave the millennium,
even the bums palm
      shiny silver.

The peace of great wealth
      lies down in the streets,
the peace of great wealth
      moves over the waters,

and rich men call out
      sailing homeward,
rich men, strong men,
      working wonders —

their light skips down
      on the bottomless harbor,
their light skips up
      into bottomless heaven.