Here The Poets Sing Together
The net has united what civil commerce could not join -
Frost laboring twenty years for a two bill tip
No wonder there was a darkness to his soul,
For isolation was his true reward and punishment.
We who have come after have no excuse
For we too must write but have the grace
Of knowing of each others words and place
And in appreciation cheering on
The terrible isolation broken by the power of distant love.
How would Emily if she were with us now
Ever withstand the corruption of such adulation by her peers?
A safety - it seems - that only death or the greatest faith can guarantee.