Stephen Vincent Benet
Pennsylvania / United States
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Before An Examination

Rating: 3.3

The little letters dance across the page,
Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes;
Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise
Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage
At the dull maunderings of a long dead sage,
Fling up the windows, fling aside his lies;
Choosing to breathe, not stifle and be wise,
And let the air pour in upon my cage.

The breeze blows cool and there are stars and stars

Beyond the dark, soft masses of the elms
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Annie George 23 January 2020

What is the meaning of the last three lines of the poem?

1 0 Reply

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