Richard Wilbur quotes

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As near and far as grass,
Where eyes become the sunlight, and the hand
--the main jet
Struggling aloft unti it seems at rest
A barn shall harbour heaven,
A stall become a shrine.
And every stone shall cry,
In praises of the child
By whose descent among us
The worlds are reconciled.
Ask us, ask us whether with the worldless rose
Our hearts shall fail us; come demanding
What should we be without
The dolphin's arc, the dove's return,
Nor shall you scare us with talk of the
death of the race.
Oh none too soon through the air white and dry
Will the clear announcer's voice
I am a sort of martyr, as you see,
A horizontal monument to patience.
All true enough: and true as well that she
Was beautiful, and danced, and is now dead.
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