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From A Town on the River THE GROUND under the apple-trees is flat, | |
| Like any other ground. | |
| Louis des Chiens, as he sits in his doorway, | |
| Feels a difference between it and the rest of the garden. | |
| Old Henri des Chiens, | 5 |
| And his Indian wife Evening Sun, | |
| Lie under the apple-trees. | |
| Apple-trees planted by two young gods building a new world. | |
| Old Henri des Chiens, | |
| And his Indian wife Evening Sun, | 10 |
| Lie under the apple-trees | |
| The new world and the apple-trees | |
| They left in trust to their son. | |
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| Louis des Chiens sits restlessly in his doorway, | |
| Watching the neglected trees shrivel and die. | 15 |
| The blood of the half-breed has fought long | |
| I am so fatigué, he mumbles. | |
| The white boys from the village, | |
| Ruthless on sacred ground, | |
| Strip his apple-trees and run away laughing. | 20 |
| They fling at him, | |
| Dog from a family of dogs! | |
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| Old Louis sees his red ancestors counting with pride | |
| The scalps of white men dangling from their belts. | |
| Old Louis sees his white ancestors tomahawked | 25 |
| Defending white women and little white boys. | |
| Old Louis sits in his doorway and mumbles, | |
| It is you who are dogpuppy-dog! | |
| Twothreefour-time puppy-dog. | |
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