Poetry and Prose

Trisha Basak

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Trisha Basak

Joyce, you speak?

Shelley is infinitesimal

Blake, In Rockland

And Milton too, to the grave

There I find

Browning and Browning, hand in hand

Happily but speaking to a neighboring

Eliot, who smiles like a sun

To a broken e.e, coming?

Oh Lord! Lord Tennyson

He dueled and killed that Byron

And sorely listened to those chains

That bound Keats and Yeats too

Wordsworth broke the poetic poetry

And Hardy salvaged and swooned too

They all told Coleridge in delicate whispers

How Whitman and Burns and

Language grew

Joyce, did you hear?

The bones breaking in Shakespeare’s tune

Wisdom waking and the all the world shaking

What here transpired- adieu, adieu

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