Oh, love of woman, you are known to be
A passion sent to plague the hearts of men;
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Deep in the sloping forest that surrounds
The head of a green valley that I know,
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Above the ruin of God's holy place,
Where man-forsaken lay the bleeding rood,
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A shell surprised our post one day
And killed a comrade at my side.
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In the glad revels, in the happy fetes,
When cheeks are flushed, and glasses gilt and pearled
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I know a village in a far-off land
Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain
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To see the clouds his spirit yearned toward so
Over new mountains piled and unploughed waves,
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The need to love that all the stars obey
Entered my heart and banished all beside.
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My spirit only lived to look on Beauty's face,
As only when they clasp the arms seem served aright;
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I have gone sometimes by the gates of Death
And stood beside the cavern through whose doors
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Their strength had fed on this when Death's white arms
Came sleeved in vapors and miasmal dew,
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There was a boy -- not above childish fears --
With steps that faltered now and straining ears,
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Over the radiant ridges borne out on the offshore wind,
I have sailed as a butterfly sails whose priming wings unfurled
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Oft when sweet music undulated round,
Like the full moon out of a perfumed sea
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In that fair capital where Pleasure, crowned
Amidst her myriad courtiers, riots and rules,
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Her courts are by the flux of flaming ways,
Between the rivers and the illumined sky
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First, London, for its myriads; for its height,
Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite;
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There is a power whose inspiration fills
Nature's fair fabric, sun- and star-inwrought,
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I have sought Happiness, but it has been
A lovely rainbow, baffling all pursuit,
14 lines, 3 comments
Apart sweet women (for whom Heaven be blessed),
Comrades, you cannot think how thin and blue
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Clouds rosy-tinted in the setting sun,
Depths of the azure eastern sky between,
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You have the grit and the guts, I know;
You are ready to answer blow for blow
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I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
23 lines, 1 comment
All that's not love is the dearth of my days,
The leaves of the volume with rubric unwrit,
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We first saw fire on the tragic slopes
Where the flood-tide of France's early gain,
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If I was drawn here from a distant place,
'Twas not to pray nor hear our friend's address,
14 lines, 1 comment
Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest,
With single rites the common debt to pay?
13 lines, 1 comment
Purged, with the life they left, of all
That makes life paltry and
56 lines, 1 comment
(To have been read before the statue of Lafayette and Washington in
Paris, on Decoration Day, May 30, 1916.)
105 lines, 1 comment
Thy petals yet are closely curled,
Rose of the world,
17 lines
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