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There is a face I hid today:
Just a glimpse,
And one of some
Inside a flask beside my bed
That I keep tight
Below the light.
Now and then I put it on,
And the yellow light
That I must work--
Really work:
Light of life stuck in a jar,
Blinded bright,
An artificial light
Beside my side
Where I had slept,
Had slept before--
Before tall Time
And empty
Pleasantries.
O, is it necessary
To search the seas in a prescription jar
Beside my bed
Where all seemed wed,
There, near the night-light long,
Where I once slept with him,
My brother twin?--
Or was it my wife in a bottle too?--
Gently wooing,
The universal soothing,
Where all was borrowed, dead, or bled,
Stretched out on this,
My prison bed.
O, I know it well:
Though each one comes and goes,
We sleep alone,
But for
One sane flash, a lucky flicker,
When each comes home--
Each last and every one.
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