"What should such fellows as I do,
Crawling between earth and heaven?"
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(A Fragment)>/i>
What, have I waked again? I never thought
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Green is the plane-tree in the square,
The other trees are brown;
They droop and pine for country air;
The plane-tree loves the town.
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I may not weep, not weep, and he is dead.
A weary, weary weight of tears unshed
Through the long day in my sad heart I bear;
The horrid sun with all unpitying glare
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I lay beneath the pine trees,
And looked aloft, where, through
The dusky, clustered tree-tops,
Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue.
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After a Richter Concert.
In the long, sad time, when the sky was grey,
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To E.M.S.
Here, where your garden fenced about and still is,
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Now, even, I cannot think it true,
My friend, that there is no more you.
Almost as soon were no more I,
Which were, of course, absurdity!
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