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1869–1935

Boston

Edwin Arlington Robinson

My northern pines are good enough for me, But there's a town my memory uprears — A town that always like a friend appears, And always in the sunrise by the sea.

And over it, somehow, there seems to be A downward flash of something new and fierce, That ever strives to clear, but never clears The dimness of a charmed antiquity.

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Boston · Edwin Arlington Robinson · Poetry Cove