To E.T.  35529

Locations in Harold's Library

• The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems (book)
  • page 222

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            [0] => I slumbered with your poems on my breast, / Spread open as I dropped them half-read through / Like dove wings on a figure on a tomb, / To see if in a dream they brought of you /  / I might not have the chance I missed in life / Through some delay, and call you to your face / First soldier, and then poet, and then both, / Who died a soldier-poet of your race.|c
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