Edwin Arlington Robinson

We never knew the Sorrow or the pain
Within him, for he seemed as one asleep
Until he faced us with a dying leap,
And with a blast of paramount, profane,

And vehement valediction did explain
To each of us, in words that we shall keep,
Why we were not to wonder or to weep,
Or ever dare to wish him back again.

He may be now an amiable shade,
With merry fellow-phantoms unafraid
Around him, but we do not ask. We know
That he would rise and haunt us horribly,

And be with us o' nights of a certainty.
Did we not hear him when he told us so?

The Town Down the River

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