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sister poems

Poem inside the Procedure of William Wordsworth
By way of David Lehman

I ran with the wind like a boy
within the experience of my solitude ...
whilst pleasure surrounded me like an ocean
I couldn't stand in yet may just drown in.

And to that end used to be born my conception of pleasure sister poems
alloyed with concern and greater subdued
than a breeze lifting a lone leaf
to a hill of top altitude.

If the sort of idea had been useless,
to me
it but is still
the breath of existence itself,
more than grief and lonelier than a cloudless sky.

No longer even—my sister, my life—not
whether dying ought to be thy lot,
might I lose religion that I,

in frame bruised however with dignity prime,
with visage grim to satisfy the trials
of sleep, will but keep up

the unending poem of my mind.

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