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Advice


You were a sophist,*
Pale and quite remote,
As you bade me
Write poems---
Brown poems
Of dark words
And prehistoric rhythms....
Your pallor stifled my poesy
But I remebered a tapestry
That I would some day weave
Of dim purples and fine reds
And blues
Like night and death---
The keen precision of your words
Wove a silver thread
Through the dusk softness
Of my dream-stuff....

Written by Gwendolyn Bennett (1902-1981)

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