Edwin Arlington Robinson
He knocked, and I beheld him at the door--
A vision for the gods to verify.
"What battered ancient is this," thought I,
"And when, if ever, did we meet before?"
But ask him as I might, I got no more
For answer than a moaning and a cry:
Too late to parley, but in time to die,
He staggered, and lay ahapeless on the floor.
When had I known him? And what brought him here?
Love, warning, malediction, fear?
Surely I never thwarted such as he?--
Again, what soiled obscurity was this:
Out of what scum, and up from what abyss,
Had they arrived--these rags of memory.
Edwin Arlington Robinson's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Alma Mater by Edwin Arlington Robinson )
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- Warmth in the Winter, Joshua Chuhran
- I REMEMBER, Nazreen Nazarudeen
- Story of Man, Joshua Chuhran
- Daily admission, gajanan mishra
- The Idealist., RAJ VIKRAM
- waste your time reading this, Mandolyn ...
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Edgar Allan Poe
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)