The Torch
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On my Northwest coast in the midst of the night a fishermen’s group
stands watching,
Out on the lake that expands before them, others are spearing salmon,
The canoe, a dim shadowy thing, moves across the black water,
Bearing a torch ablaze at the prow.
| from Leaves of Grass: Book XXIV by Walt Whitman | |
| Tests | O Star of France (1870-71) 
|
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