John Eliot Poems

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1.
The Cup Of Sorrows

Give me no more, out of the urn-
Of life that wretched vintage to fill
My little cup, for it would still
My weary pulse: my senses burn;
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2.
'Narcissus '

The seasons came and passed away,
The woods were green, then golden, then bare:
The weeds grew and then swiftly decayed-
As of his presence unaware.
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