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Porgy, Maria, and Bess, Robbins, and Peter, and Crown; Life was a three-stringed harp Brought from the woods to town.
Marvelous tunes you rang From passion, and death, and birth, You who had laughed and weptOn the warm, brown lap of the earth.
Now in your untried handsAn instrument, terrible, new,Is thrust by a master who frowns,Demanding strange songs of you
God of the White and Black, Grant us great hearts on the way That we may understandUntil you have learned to play.
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