he is born and I am undone—feel as if I will / never be, was never born. // Two years later I obliterate myself again / having another child … for two years, there’s no me here.
“Bring me my rose-buds, drawer, come; So while I thus sit crown’d, I’ll drink the aged Cecubum, Until the roof turn round.”
Robert Herrick | “A Frolic”
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