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Won't you help support DayPoems? The PoetBy Mildred McNeal SweeneyBorn 1871Himself is least afraid When the singing lips in the dust With all mute lips are laid. For thither all men must. Nor is the end long stayed. But he, having cast his song Upon the faithful air And given it speed -- is strong That last strange hour to dare, Nor wills to tarry long. Adown immortal time That greater self shall pass, And wear its eager prime And lend the youth it has Like one far blowing chime. He has made sure the quest And now -- his word gone forth -- May have his perfect rest Low in the tender earth, The wind across his breast. DayPoems Poem No. 1237 Comment on DayPoems? If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at DayPoems Feedback. Won't you help support DayPoems? Click here to learn more about how you can keep DayPoems on the Web . . . Copyright The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2005 by Timothy K. Bovee. All rights reserved. The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work. Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors. |
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