A Passing Gli~Ipse Poem

A Passing Gli~Ipse Poem By Robert Frost

On Last Lookmg mto HIS ‘Hespendes’
I often see flowers from a passIng car

That are gone before I can tell what they are
I want to get out of the traIn and go back

To see what they were besIde the track
I name all the flowers I am sure they weren’t.

Not fireweed lovIng where woods have bumtNot bluebells gracing a tunnel mouthNot lupIne liVIng on sand and drouth

Was something brushed across my mInd,
That no one on earth will ever find?

Heaven gives its glimpses only to those,
Not In position to look too close.

A Passing Gli~Ipse Poem

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