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Poem by Harold Hart Crane Interior It sheds a shy solemnity, This lamp in our poor room. O grey and gold amenity, — Silence and gentle gloom! Wide from the world, a stolen hour We claim, and none may know How love blooms like a tardy flower Here in the day's after-glow. And even should the world break in With jealous threat and guile, The world, at last, must bow and win Our pity and a smile. Harold Hart Crane Harold Hart Crane's other poems: 1195 Views |
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