closer still
true vine
than the wind and wolves
the wilderness
of all the howling world
in hush behind your doors
where the low sigh is a fragrance
and nightsongs bloom for saints
so pluck your hanging harps
from the boughs of the willow tree
no longer sapless beneath the branches
the tears you\'ve sown
shake nations
and oil the warrior drums
where trembling hands raise armies
judah\'s lion
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