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1886–1918

IV

Joyce Kilmer

On nights like this the huddled sheep — I never saw a night so fair. How huge the sky is, and how deep! And how the planets flash and glare!

At dawn beside my drowsy flock What winged music I have heard! But now the clouds with singing rock As if the sky were turning bird.

O blinding Light, O blinding Light! Burn through my heart with sweetest pain. O flaming Song, most loudly bright, Consume away my deadly stain!

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IV · Joyce Kilmer · Poetry Cove