The Butler Pennsylvania Poems
McKean Street Dream
In gentle sleep the downward sweep
of tree-lined McKean Street
tilts centerward and glides,
then rises gently up to where
the great gray ship, the church
rides carefree on waves
with surging mast and billowed sails
that touch our skymost bounds,
while across from it
behind portly maples
the yellow brick school house
that used to be
still sits stranded, brooding,
devoid of desks and chairs,
earth-bound, plundered,
behind blunt Ionic columns.
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