Don't stop the eagle now.
When it comes holding thumbs
Rearing a brow in the evening.
Watch down at your feet,
And keep to the road.
Tasting alabaster on your tongue.
How do you like the grit of that?
Thumbing the lint of linens;
I hope you do.
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Comments about this poem (Stilt by Alec Witthohn )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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