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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Robert Rand

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Graves of Dreams

Robert Rand

SO softly bright the golden twilight hung

Over the graveyard where my dead dreams lay.

In other times I often passed that way—

You see, they died so pitifully young!

But now I shun the graying line on line,

For sterner tombs are rising, crowding there,

And dreams are dead full-grown, and fair—oh, fair!

Soon shall they all be dead, and none be mine.