(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950 / Rockland / Maine / United States)

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Daphne

Why do you follow me?—
Any moment I can be
Nothing but a laurel-tree.

Any moment of the chase
I can leave you in my place
A pink bough for your embrace.

Yet if over hill and hollow
Still it is your will to follow,
I am off;—to heel, Apollo!

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: pink, tree

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