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Let them bury your big eyes In the secret ear

Let them bury your big eyes
In the secret earth securely
Your thin fingers and your fair
Soft indefinite colored hair —
All of these in some way surely
From the secret earth shall rise
Not for these I sit and stare
Broken and bereft completely
Your young flesh that sat so neatly
On your little bones will sweetly
Blossom in the air.
But your voice —never the rushing
Of a river underground
Not the rising of the wind
In the trees before the rain
Not the woodcock's watery call
Not the note the white throat utters
Not the feet of children pushing
Yellow leaves along the gutters
In the blue and bitter fall
Shall content my musing mind
For the beauty of that sound
That in no new way at all
Ever will be heard again.
Sweetly through the sappy stalk
Of the vigorous weed
Holding all it held before
Cherished by the faithful sun
On and on eternally
Shall your altered fluid run
Bud and bloom and go to seed
But your singing days are done
But the music of your talk
Never shall the chemistry
Of the secret earth restore.
All your lovely words are spoken.
Once the ivory box is broken
Beats the golden bird no more..

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