William Carlos Williams
January - Poem by William Carlos Williams
Again I reply to the triple winds
running chromatic fifths of derision
outside my window:
You will not succeed. I am
bound more to my sentences
the more you batter at me
to follow you.
And the wind,
as before, fingers perfectly
its derisive music.
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The Road Not Taken
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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