PoemPermanent catalogue Work

The Years Are as a Knife

1textual state2Characters
Category
Darker Moods
SectionUntitled Drafts

Opening lines

The years are as a knife against my heart.Of what avail the labor and the sweat,To hammer on the anvil men call art,A soulless, gleaming tinsel, sparkling wet

Textual states

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Characters in this Work

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Publication appearances