David McLansky

Freshman - 992 Points (5/24/1944 / New York City)

You Can'T Make Gold - Poem by David McLansky

From what Wizard's vial,
By what chemist's book,
Can Love be fed,
Can Love be cooked?
You can't make gold
From a heart of lead;
How useless, cold,
A marriage bed.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, October 11, 2013


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