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Wallace Stevens - Another Weeping Woman
Work rating: Medium

  Pour the unhappiness out
  From your too bitter heart,
  Which grieving will not sweeten.

  Poison grows in this dark.
  It is in the water of tears
  Its black blooms rise.

  The magnificent cause of being,
  The imagination, the one reality
  In this imagined world

  Leaves you
  With him for whom no phantasy moves,
  And you are pierced by a death.
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