The poem, I’ve always felt, is an opportunity for me to create an integrated whole from so many broken shards
--Rafael Campo
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Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A Drinking Song
By W. B. Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
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If you include links in your comment the whole comment will likely be deleted as spam. You have been warned! Otherwise, dialoguing with these poems is encouraged.