George Cabot Lodge

(1873-1909 / United States)

Youth

If I must die,
The earth is inarticulate to sing
The dirge I crave:
The sorrow of the murmur-laden wave,
The sea-born wind complaining ’neath the sky,
And round my head the waters’ silver ring.

If I must live,
And feel the ashes of oblivion

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