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Not to Be Naming You

ISSUE:  Spring 1927

Not to be naming you in all my prayers
Has made me prayerless, pagan, atheist;
Not to be knowing I am of your cares
Has loosed a ghost with eyes of amethyst
Into the regal day. The only thread,
Now broke, that bounden me to life was you,
So I am free now to consort with dead
Invisible lovers in their hushed purlieu.
O I am free now to regard the rise
From ocean of the round and rosy moon,
Muse on her narrow length of dragon dyes
Like Clytemnestra’s carpet—Take the boon!
I saw as much last night, with you away:
The moon was only round, the ocean gray.


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