In the dead of night in spring
The Illinois Emergency Relief
Whined among the tree-tops,
Arranged a choreography of grief.
The social worker shuddered
And made the window fast
Against the leafless waltzing in the blast.
Blessed be his name
Who recognized the Dance Renascent,
And saw it stoop amidst the barren mise en scene
To plant in cardinal positions
The feet of as many as understood.
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