Trysts

All poets embrace

Solitude, they say,

Company of one,

Which is much the way

Archers stalk the stars,

Shepherds tend their clouds—Labors best pursued

Far from madding crowds.

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And yet, Dante dared

Even the Abyss,

Poetry on hold

Without Beatrice.

Beside the sea,

PoeRages at a tomb;

Autumn sees his thoughtsStray to Ulalume.