A Memory Of Rubinstein Poem by Richard Watson Gilder
A Memory Of Rubinstein
HE of the ocean is, its thunderous waves
Echo his music; while far down the shore
Mad laughter hurries —a white, blowing spume.
I hear again in memory that wild storm;
The winds of heaven go rushing round the world,
And broods above the rage one sphinx-like face.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
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5/5/2024 4:33:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
