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						Written for a Musician by Vachel Lindsay 
						
						Hungry for music with a desperate hunger  I prowled abroad, I threaded through the town;  The evening crowd was clamoring and drinking,  Vulgar and pitiful--my heart bowed down--  Till I remembered duller hours made noble  By strangers clad in some suprising grace.  Wait, wait my soul, your music comes ere midnight  Appearing in some unexpected place  With quivering lips, and gleaming, moonlit face.						 
						
						
						
						
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