English poetry

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Dream Song 37: Three around the Old Gentleman

His malice was a pimple down his good
Big face, with its sly eyes. I must be sorry
Mr Frost has left:
I like it so less I don’t understood—
He couldn’t hear or see well—all we sift—
But this is a bad story.

He had fine stories and was another man
In private; difficult, always. Courteous,
On the whole, in private.
He apologize to Henry, off & on,
For two blue slanders; which was good of him.
I don’t know how he made it.

Quickly, off stage with all but kindness, now.
I can’t say what I have in mind. Bless Frost,
Any odd god around.
Gentle his shift, I decussate & command,
Stoic deity. For a while here we possessed
An unusual man.

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Poem Dream Song 37: Three around the Old Gentleman - John Berryman