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WHAT MY LIPS HAVE KISSED, AND WHERE, AND WHY
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
This American poet and playwright was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1923. She was also a writer of prose, usually under the nom de plume Nancy Boyd. The poet Richard Wilbur claimed that "she wrote some of the best sonnets of the century."
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