A Fragment
Could I remount the river of my years To the first fountain of our smiles and tears, I would not trace again the stream of...
This is a poetry & verse.
Could I remount the river of my years To the first fountain of our smiles and tears, I would not trace again the stream of hours Between their outworn banks of withered flowers, But bid it flow as now--until it glides Into the number of the nameless tides. What is this Death? --a quiet of the heart? The whole of that of which we are a part?…
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