You came from the Aztecs 
With a copper on your fore-arms 
Tawnier than a sunset 
Saying good-by to an even river. 

And I said, you remember,
Those fore-arms of yours 
Were finer than bronzes 
And you were glad. 

It was tears 
And a path west
and a home-going 
when I asked 
Why there were scars of worn gold 
Where a man?s ring was fixed once 
On your third finger.
And I call you 
To come back 
before the days are longer.