Mark Van Doren
''Ferdinand De Soto, sleepingMark Van Doren (1894-1973), U.S. poet. The Distant Runners (l. 13-18). . . Modern American Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed. (8th rev. ed., 1962) Harcourt, Brace and Company.
In the river, never heard
Four-and-twenty Spanish hooves
Fling off their iron and cut the green,
Leaving circles new and clean
While overhead the wing-tips whirred.''
''But I am here,Mark Van Doren (1894-1973), U.S. poet. The Distant Runners (l. 33-36). . . Modern American Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed. (8th rev. ed., 1962) Harcourt, Brace and Company.
And they are far, and time is old.
Within my dream the grass is cold;
The legs and locked; the sky is dead.''
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Equality is absolute or no.
Nothing between can stand. We are the sons
Of the same sire, or madness breaks and runs
Through the rude world. Ridiculous our woe
If single pity does not love it. So
Our separate fathers love us. No man shuns
His poorest child's embrace. We are the sons
Of such, or ground and sky are soon to go.