Formalist
As men whose bones are wind-blown dust, have sung,
Let me sing now!
I'll sing of gourds, and goads, of honey, and the plough.
I am a raw uneasy parvenu,
I am uncertain of my time.
How can I pour the liquor of new days
In the old pipes of Rhyme?
Let me sing now!
I'll sing of gourds, and goads, of honey, and the plough.
I am a raw uneasy parvenu,
I am uncertain of my time.
How can I pour the liquor of new days
In the old pipes of Rhyme?
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