Uncollected poems and prose of Edwin Arlington Robinson | ||
Strophe II
[And language has he learned and wind-swift thought]And speech and soaring wisdom has he learned,
With human measures and a way to shun
The sharp and painful arrows of the frost.
Full of resource, of all the future brings,
Resourceless meets he nothing; Death alone
He never shall escape; but he has found
[A cure] for life's unyielding maladies. [a cure].
Uncollected poems and prose of Edwin Arlington Robinson | ||