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123 bArbArA hAnTmAn Gwendolyn Brooks: Medley of Wisdom The boiling of an egg is heavy art. You come upon it as an artist should, With rich-eyed passion, and with straining heart: Two who are Mostly Good, Remembering, with twinklings and twinges, Guards upon the heart to halt love That runs without crookedness. she was interested in a brooch and pink powder and a curl— Therefore she terminated her mourning, Made for her mouth a sad sweet smile. does he hunch up, as I do, Against the dark of night? Cutting across the hot grit of the day, Warning that we are each other’s harvest, We are each other’s magnitude and bond. They took my lover’s tallness off to war, To court coquettish death, whose impudent and strange Possessive arms and beauty (of a sort) Live not for battles won, Live not for the-end-of-the-song— Live in the along. 124 everybody here is infirm. Oh. Mend me. Mend me. Lord. Look! I am beautiful, beautiful with My wing that is wounded: The sun slappers, The self-soilers, The harmony-hushers— What a pity what a pity. no love For one so loving. If Thou be more than hate or atmosphere step forth in splendor— Mortify our wolves! ...

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