Anthony Hecht quotes

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It's all very well to dream of a dove that saves,
Picasso's or the Pope's
The air was clear. He seemed in ultimate peace
And in their fairy tales
The warty giant and witch
Get sealed in doorless jails
And the match-girl strikes it rich.
And that their sleep be sound
I say this childermas
Who could not, at one time,
Have saved them from the gas.
No prayers or incense rose up in those hours
Which grew to be years, and every day came mute
Composed in the Tower before his execution
These moving verses, and being brought at that time
Samuel Sewall, in a world of wigs,
Flouted opinion in his personal hair;
But all the time he was talking she had in mind
The notion of what his whiskers would feel like
On the back of her neck.
So there stood Matthew Arnold and this girl
With the cliffs of England crumbling away behind them,
A great black presence beats its wings in wrath.
Above the boneyard burn its golden eyes.
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