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The Beloved
THREE POEMS
THE BELOVED
You are my holy city, my beloved;
Dark as Jerusalem and bright as Rome.
The gates of you are opened generously
To take the prodigal home.
What foreign towns I knew have never dimmed
The burning memory of your altar-fire;
My backward-hungering heart has always heard
In other songs, your choir.
I kiss your lips and dream of Lebanon!
You are my living Zion; and I rest
Here in the temple of your body's grace,
Beneath the white wall of your breast.