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39 How My Light Is Spent Must Thousands at his bidding speed and post o’er land and ocean without rest? They also serve who only stand and wait, for there’s no gathering home the one forsaking land for sea. And since I’ve come to know grief is more like a diamond, less like a whale, I’ve seen it many evenings in the diamonds of the infields, emerald flats that burnish me with elegy. I’ve heard before Guyana, the People’s Temple made a joyful noise: they followed their reverend to Ukiah, California, to work the vineyards near the Redwoods. Before he laid their mass grave (arm around waist around arm around waist), the gritty footage shows a man and woman in the sun, twining and trellising the vines. ...

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