Stephen Vincent Benet
Pennsylvania / United States
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Lonely Burial

Rating: 3.7

There were not many at that lonely place,
Where two scourged hills met in a little plain.
The wind cried loud in gusts, then low again.
Three pines strained darkly, runners in a race
Unseen by any. Toward the further woods
A dim harsh noise of voices rose and ceased.
-- We were most silent in those solitudes --
Then, sudden as a flame, the black-robed priest,

The clotted earth piled roughly up about

The hacked red oblong of the new-made thing,
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7/19/2021 2:44:38 PM # 1.0.0.663