He sang one song and died—no more but that:
A single song and carelessly complete.
He would not bind and thresh his chance-grown wheat,
Nor bring his wild fruit to the common vat,
To store the acid rinsings, thin and flat,
Squeezed from the press or...
Henry Augustin Beers
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He sang one song and died—no more but that:
A single song and carelessly complete.
He would not bind and thresh his chance-grown wheat,
Nor bring his wild fruit to the common vat,
To store the acid rinsings, thin and flat,
Squeezed from the press or... -
The wilderness a secret keeps
Upon whose guess I go:
Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard;
And yet I know, I know,Some day the viewless latch will lift,
The door of air swing wide
To one lost chamber of the wood
Where those shy... -
Mimi, do you remember—
Don’t get behind your fan—
That morning in September
On the cliffs of Grand Manan,
Where to the shock of Fundy
The topmost harebells sway
(Campanula rotundi-
folia: cf. Gray)?On the pastures high...
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Thine old-world eyes—each one a violet
Big as the baby rose that is thy mouth—
Set me a-dreaming. Have our eyes not met
In childhood—in a garden of the South?Thy lips are trembling with a song of France,
My cousin, and thine eyes are dimly sweet;... -
Put them in print?
Make one more dint
In the ages’ furrowed rock? No, no!
Let his name and his verses go.
These idle scraps, they would but wrong
His memory, whom we honored long,
And men would ask: “Is this the best—
Is this the whole his...