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1837–1913

XXXVI.

Joaquin Miller

Slim snakes slid down from fern and grass, From wood, from fen, from anywhere; You could not step, you would not pass, And you would hesitate to stir,

Lest in some sudden, hurried tread Your foot struck some unbruised head: They slid in streams into the stream,— It seemed like some infernal dream;

They curved, and graceful curved across, Like graceful, waving sea-green moss,— There is no art of man can make A ripple like a rippling snake!

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XXXVI. · Joaquin Miller · Poetry Cove