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"The poet anticipates the chair being kicked out from under him at any given moment." -wcg Excerpted from The Poet Knows. See blog.
Of all the books and voices I have read–
Observing from my post the teeming day
Of all the burdened spirits gone ahead–
Sit me down, hand to breast, and soundless pray
To those whose lives are breaths upon a page
A passion can endure though reason doth allay
Strong be the blightened soul–though body serves to cage
Dance with the Dreamer, the dew of softened rain–
What of one’s years when an hour bears no age?
Lilac's Whisper, Willow's Cry–each a name
We ask to know, we perplex to discern
Death be not afraid–it is ingenious pain!
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