XXIX
The Old Poet
Now fails the fire: my heart is numb with pain:
I am reminded in too many ways
Of voices I shall never hear again,
Of happier days.
O not another poem will I write:
I will forget the books that I have read:
I will step out reluctant through the night,
Veiling my head.
For grief like mine no tragic peals of woe
Thunder: I am too cursed with abject fear
To stand in daylight. Of my poems know
This one sincere.
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