Built long ago, old sills rotting in mud, filled now with soft ash from a thousand fires that warmed me, ash settled indelibly on these books, never to be clean again, and on these shoulders and hands. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON HEARING OF INTENTION .. TO PURCHASE THE POET'S FREEDOM by GEORGE MOSES HORTON SONNET FOR A PICTURE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE LAST RAFT by JOSEPH V. ADAMS CESAR FRANCK by JOSEPH AUSLANDER ON READING OF THE DEATH OF THOMAS WOLFE by MARION LOUISE BLISS MANY ARE CALLED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |