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Rh I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west
 * lakes,

I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike
 * the grain and grass with the showers of their
 * terrible clouds,

I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively
 * falling on the breast of the black venerable vast
 * mother, the Nile,

I hear the bugles of raft-tenders on the streams of
 * Kanada,

I hear the chirp of the Mexican muleteer, and the
 * bells of the mule,

I hear the Arab muezzin, calling from the top of the
 * mosque,

I hear Christian priests at the altars of their churches
 * —I hear the responsive base and soprano,

I hear the wail of utter despair of the white-haired
 * Irish grand-parents, when they learn the death
 * of their grand-son,

I hear the cry of the Cossack, and the sailor's voice,
 * putting to sea at Okotsk,

I hear the wheeze of the slave-coffle, as the slaves
 * march on—as the husky gangs pass on by twos
 * and threes, fastened together with wrist-chains
 * and ankle-chains,

I hear the entreaties of women tied up for punishment
 * —I hear the sibilant whisk of thongs through the air;

I hear the Hebrew reading his records and psalms, I hear the rhythmic myths of the Greeks, and the
 * strong legends of the Romans,

I hear the tale of the divine life and bloody death
 * of the beautiful God, the Christ,

21*