Aztec by Carl Sandburg
You came from the Aztecs With a copper on your fore-arms Tawnier than a sunset Saying good-by to an even river.
And I said, you remember, Those fore-arms of yours Were finer than bronzes And you were glad.
It was tears And a path west and a home-going when I asked Why there were scars of worn gold Where a man's ring was fixed once On your third finger. And I call you To come back before the days are longer.
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