Archibald MacLeish

An Eternity

There is no dusk to be,
There is no dawn that was,
Only there’s now, and now,
And the wind in the grass.
 
Days I remember of
Now in my heart, are now;
Days that I dream will bloom
White the peach bough.
 
Dying shall never be
Now in the windy grass;
Now under shooken leaves
Death never was.
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