He stood on icy beach before me,
His face was beaten by the wind,
Before the early morning sunrise,
A man who thought he made a sin.
He turned and slowly came towards me,
Stumbling and faltering as he came,
By his side a ragged little husky,
On his face, the losers look of shame.
He said, You, you misunderstand,
The hope, I have for this land,
And you, you cannot conceive,
Of all, of all I believe.
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