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TO MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON, by                    
First Line: Dear dead poet, in your lyric way
Last Line: And you'll write new songs on a bright new page.
Subject(s): Memory; Poetry & Poets; Singing & Singers


Dear dead poet, in your lyric way
You taught us beauty and the gift of song.
You limned for us the spirit in the clay,
And smiled through tears the whole day long.
You sang of pain, dark sister of the night,
This gift she bore beneath her cruel mask—
Sealed are your dear lips now, and white,
Her last farwell to you we may not ask.

"Not to this world—o, no, not this!"
You gave your sainted heart, but hand to serve,
So may you forget through world of bliss
Life's cruel pain that racked your fine-strung nerve.

Who knows? To earth you may come again
A fair, strong body, in a grand new age,
While joy shall wait on you where once stood pain,
And you'll write new songs on a bright new page.





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