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Flame and Shadow
The Wind in the Hemlock

by Sara Teasdale

Steely stars and moon of brass, 
How mockingly you watch me pass! 
You know as well as I how soon 
I shall be blind to stars and moon, 
Deaf to the wind in the hemlock tree, 
Dumb when the brown earth weighs on me. 
With envious dark rage I bear, 
Stars, your cold complacent stare; 
Heart-broken in my hate look up, 
Moon, at your clear immortal cup, 
Changing to gold from dusky red -- 
Age after age when I am dead 
To be filled up with light, and then 
Emptied, to be refilled again. 

What has man done that only he 
Is slave to death -- so brutally 
Beaten back into the earth 
Impatient for him since his birth? 

Oh let me shut my eyes, close out 
The sight of stars and earth and be 
Sheltered a minute by this tree. 
Hemlock, through your fragrant boughs 
There moves no anger and no doubt, 
No envy of immortal things. 
The night-wind murmurs of the sea 
With veiled music ceaselessly, 
That to my shaken spirit sings. 
From their frail nest the robins rouse, 
In your pungent darkness stirred, 
Twittering a low drowsy word -- 
And me you shelter, even me. 
In your quietness you house 
The wind, the woman and the bird. 
You speak to me and I have heard: 

If I am peaceful, I shall see 
Beauty's face continually; 
Feeding on her wine and bread 
I shall be wholly comforted, 
For she can make one day for me 
Rich as my lost eternity. 
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