The Burning Bush
Winter has strewn its every twig
With frozen ashes,
Yet the bush is afire with scarlet wings,
It glows, it flashes:
Take off your shoes! Take off your shoes!
This ground is holy,
For the great I AM in the red-birds' breasts
Is burning lowly.
With frozen ashes,
Yet the bush is afire with scarlet wings,
It glows, it flashes:
Take off your shoes! Take off your shoes!
This ground is holy,
For the great I AM in the red-birds' breasts
Is burning lowly.
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