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Golgotha Is a Mountain
Golgotha is a mountain, a purple mound
Almost out of sight.
One night they
hanged two thieves there,
And another man.
Some women wept
heavily that night;
Their tears are
flowing still. They have made a river;
Once it covered me.
Then the people went
away and left Golgotha
Deserted.
Oh, I've seen many
mountains:
Pale purple mounting
melting in the evening mists and
blurring on the borders of the sky.
I climbed old Shasta
and chilled my hands in its summer
snows.
I rested in the
shadow of Popocatepetl and it whispered to me
of death.
And I've seen other
mountains rising from the wistful moors
like the breasts of a slender maiden.
Who knows the
mystery of mountains!
Some of them are awful, others are just lonely.
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