Hast Never Come To Thee An Hour Poem by Walt Whitman

Hast Never Come To Thee An Hour

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HAST never come to thee an hour,
A sudden gleam divine, precipitating, bursting all these bubbles,
fashions, wealth?
These eager business aims--books, politics, art, amours,
To utter nothingness?

Tuesday, December 31, 2002
Topic(s) of this poem: books
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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

New York / United States
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