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1
Searock his tower above the sea, Searock he built, not ivory. Searock as well his haunted art Who gave to plunging hawks his hearts.
2
He loved to stand upon his head To demonstrate he was not dead. Ah, if his poems misbehave 'Tis only to defy the grave.
3
This exquisite patrician bird Grooming a neatly folded wing Guarded for years the Sacred Word. A while he sang then ceased to sing.
4
His head carved out of granite O, His hair a wayward drift of snow, He worshipped the great God of Flow By holding on and letting go.
Robert Francis
Read poems about / on: snow, hair, sea, god, poem
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