Crimson Rambler

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Cornhuskers by Carl Sandburg Crimson Rambler

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NOW that a crimson rambler
    begins to crawl over the house
    of our two lives—

Now that a red curve
    winds across the shingles—

Now that hands
    washed in early sunrises
    climb and spill scarlet
    on a white lattice weave—

Now that a loop of blood
    is written on our roof
    and reaching around a chimney—

How are the two lives of this house
    to keep strong hands and strong hearts?