Silence has its own echoes too:
Each of your eyes are its sisters walking the tresses
Of a railway I cannot remember,
But sometimes it goes leaping over great unanswered quarries:
It goes leaping and gets a jubilant,
And that is went your throat is grazing on the hills of
Green gods,
And I can’t remember your name, because it doesn’t begin with
A K, and I’ve never swung with you;
But maybe I have lied before, and I am lying now:
Maybe we struck out together: maybe we panned for silver:
Maybe we summitted her together:
Maybe I have liked to taste the placed on you, the hidden estuaries
And water fountains that your daughter tastes even now;
And because I have said so so eloquently, how could
You, with a clear conscious, possibly deny me.
Eloquently
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