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| <meta
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| author="McKay, Claude"
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| year_of_publication="1920"
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| genre="Poetry"
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| publisher="London Grant Richards Ltd"
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| journal="Spring in New Hampshire and Other Poems"
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| page_range="36-37"
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| />
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| <annotations>
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|
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| == When Dawn Comes to the City ==
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|
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|
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| <paragraph keywords="car, personification, twilight, urban">
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| <poem>
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| The tired cars go grumbling by,
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| The moaning, groaning cars,
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| And the old milk carts go rumbling by
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| Under the same dull stars.
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| Out of the tenements, cold as stone,
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| Dark figures start for work;
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| I watch them sadly shuffle on,
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| ‘Tis dawn, dawn in New York.
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| </poem>
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| </paragraph>
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|
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|
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| <paragraph keywords="animal, rural">
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| <poem>
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| But I would be on the island of the sea,
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| In the heart of the island of the sea,
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| Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing,
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| And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree,
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| Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing
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| Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn,
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| And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing,
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| And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying,
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| And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling
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| From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea
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| That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling
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| Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously !
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| There, oh there ! on the island of the sea
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| There I would be at dawn.
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| </poem>
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| </paragraph>
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|
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|
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| <paragraph keywords="personification, twilight">
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| <poem>
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| The tired cars go grumbling by,
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| The crazy, lazy cars,
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| And the same milk-carts go rumbling by
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| Under the dying stars.
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| A lonely newsboy hurries by,
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| Humming a recent ditty ;
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| Red streaks strike through the gray of the
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| sky,
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| The dawn comes to the city.
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| </poem>
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| </paragraph>
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|
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|
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| <paragraph keywords="animal, rural, ">
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| <poem>
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| But I would be on the island of the sea,
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| In the heart of the island of the sea,
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| Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing,
| |
| And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree,
| |
| Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing
| |
| Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn,
| |
| And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing,
| |
| And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying,
| |
| And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling
| |
| From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea
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| That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling
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| Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously !
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| There, oh there ! on the island of the sea
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| There I would be at dawn.
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| </poem>
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| </paragraph>
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|
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| </annotations>
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