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Eclipse of the Moon

and go my blowing way with a gentled mind.
How can you be so good? Before I left
clouds wrapped you round in a dark sky of doom.
What did I lose? In truth, I am bereft
Of nothing, for in my heart's sunlit room
you live as never when we were together,
your eyes, your smile warm as they used to be
before we met: now all our judgment's weather
has broken. Now at last you are good to me.
Farewell: with gleam of beak and whir of feather
life rises from the roots of fantasy.
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I am death. I steal upon old men
in libraries, covering the page
that they may not look upon still words again.
The surmounting fire of their age
blossoms from a final passionate pen.
I am death. I cover the mother‘s eyes
with a black cloth, and she sees
in the searing dark the terror of those cries
she loved, anguish she thought to ease
with her own sighs, will recognize.
I am death. I press the flower of the young
between my lips, and girls and boys
fade deliciously, their songs half-sung,
from very surfeit of their joys
and think the death-bell loveliest swooning rung.
I am death. I have sought knowledge right,
Child-love best, love of sweethearts sweet,
And found them such heaven that I bequeath them my
might.
I am no stranger they meet
by flickering candle-life, but their own wild sight.
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Who can you turn to
Nebuchadnezzar
your glories are fading
your riches are gone.
How you must learn to
recapture pleasure
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