
"Mere forgetfullness cannot remove it
Nor wishing bring it back, as long as it remains
The white precipitate of its dream
In the climate of sighs flung across our world,
A cloth over a birdcage. But it is certain that
What is beautiful seems so only in relation to a specific
Life, experienced or not, channeled into some form
Steeped in the nostalgia of a collected past."
from: SELF-PORTRAIT IN A CONVEX MIRROR
John Ashbery
:the drifter and the gypsyThoreau
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