Edwin Arlington Robinson

(22 December 1869 – 6 April 1935 / Maine / United States)

On The Night Of A Friend's Wedding - Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson

If ever I am old, and all alone,
I shall have killed one grief, at any rate;
For then, thank God, I shall not have to wait
Much longer for the sheaves that I have sown.
The devil only knows what I have done,
But here I am, and here are six or eight
Good friends, who most ingenuously prate
About my songs to such and such a one.

But everything is all askew to-night,—
As if the time were come, or almost come,
For their untenanted mirage of me
To lose itself and crumble out of sight,
Like a tall ship that floats above the foam
A little while, and then breaks utterly.


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Read poems about / on: grief, alone, wedding, friend, god, night, time, song, thanks, lost



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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