I shook off the house like a hooded cape,
And came out, free, into the March-blown street...
At a lash of the gale, at a sight of the cloud-tattered skies,
As a coat discarded,
I shook off civilization
And became wild,
And my naked soul raced the clouds,
And the flavour of the Earth was fresh and primitive…
James Oppenheim, from "March Night"
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