Hues

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There was a land blue and green

That soon turned gray, sanguine.

 There was a fort gold and silver

That now was dusted black, pewter.

 Not that purple had ever limned white

But this time it was a different fight.

 Years of oppression and persecution

Had ignited the flame of revolution.

 Those who dared to ask why

Said they’d walk with heads held high.

 The jar had a million hues

And it finally broke free, unloose.

15.8.1947

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