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Dream Song 324: An Elegy for W.C.W., the lovely man

John Berryman

Henry in Ireland to Bill underground:
Rest well, who worked so hard, who made a good sound
constantly, for so many years:
your high-jinks delighted the continents & our ears:
you had so many girls your life was a triumph
and you loved your one wife.

At dawn you rose & wrote—the books poured forth—
you delivered infinite babies, in one great birth—
and your generosity
to juniors made you deeply loved, deeply:
if envy was a Henry trademark, he would envy you,
especially the being through.

Too many journeys lie for him ahead,
too many galleys & page-proofs to be read,
he would like to lie down
in your sweet silence, to whom was not denied
the mysterious late excellence which is the crown
of our trials & our last bride.

Added: 3 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 20 Apr 2018 2:43 PM | Viewed: 4700 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/1066/ | Viewed on 20 April 2018.
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