As Yeats
John Clare Stokes
He wanted so badly
to be a Yeats, a Frost
even a Wallace or Lawrence
Poets whose words he
marveled how
There were moments
when he’d get this inner
strong compulsion
of what he wanted to
compose
but his scrabble of words
seemed inadequate
the result never as
the inner thought
The old Triton
the maiden so sublime
fighting
to win her with only lines
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