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Where many shadows of faceless thieves Chuckle and stumble and embrace On beer cans, stogie butts, and graves. One holiday, one rainy week After the country fell apart, Hoover and Coolidge came to speak And snivel about his broken heart. His grave, a huge absurdity, Embarrassed cops and visitors. Hoover and Coolidge crept away By night, and women closed their doors. Now junkmen call their children in Before they catch their death of cold; Young lovers let the moon begin Its quick spring; and the day grows old; The mean one-legger who rakes up leaves Has chased the loafers out of the park; Minnegan Leonard half-believes In God, and the poolroom goes dark; America goes on, goes on Laughing, and Harding was a fool. Even his big pretentious stone Lays him bare to ridicule. I know it. But don't look at me. By God, I didn't start this mess. Whatever moon and rain may be, The hearts of men are merciless. EISENHOWER'S VISIT TO FRANCO, 1959 "... we die of cold, and not of darkness." — UNAMUNO The American hero must triumph over The forces of darkness. He has flown through the very light of heaven THE BRANCH WILL NOT BREAK 121 And come down in the slow dusk Of Spain. Franco stands in a shining circle of police. His arms open in welcome. He promises all dark things Will be hunted down. State police yawn in the prisons. Antonio Machado follows the moon Down a road of white dust, To a cave of silent cliildreii Under the Pyrenees. Wine darkens in stone jars in villages. Wine sleeps in the mouths of old men, it is a dark red color. Smiles glitter in Madrid. Eisenhower has touched hands with Franco, embracing In a glare of photographers. Clean new bombers from America muffle their engines And glide down now. Their wings shine in the searchlights Of bare fields, In Spain. IN MEMORY OF A SPANISH POET Take leave of the sun, and of the wheat,for me. — MIGUEL HERNANDEZ, written in prison, 1942. I see you strangling Under the black ripples of whitewashed walls. Your hands turn yellow in the ruins of the sun. I dream of your slow voice, flying, Planting the dark waters of the spirit With lutes and seeds. 122 ...

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