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Samuel French Morse


Star Poems

Spring 1959 | Poetry

I We calculate how farA mica-flash of lightMust travel out through spaceTo reach the earth tonight In multiples of O’sToo cumbersome to learn,But we are gratifiedThat any light should burn So fiercely and so longOr even come so farWe see it th [...]

A Poem in Praise of Hancock Point

Spring 1959 | Poetry

We listen for but almost never hearThe country-colored words we like so well,The kind of talk that makes our meaning clear. The language we have learned is too austereFor news or weather; when we sit a spell,We listen for but almost never hear In [...]