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John Gray

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by this poet

To Arthur Edmonds

Geranium, houseleek, laid in oblong beds
On the trim grass. The daisies' leprous stain
Is fresh. Each night the daisies burst again,
Though every day the gardener crops their heads.

A wistful child, in foul unwholesome shreds,

To Oscar Wilde

There was the summer. There 
     Warm hours of leaf-lipped song, 
     And dripping amber sweat. 
     O sweet to see 
The great trees condescend to cast a pearl 
Down to the myrtles; and the proud leaves curl 
     In ecstasy 

Fruit of a quest, despair. 
Smart of a sullen wrong.