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Faint Praise

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I think that I shall never see
catalpas solely just as trees
for white weeks closely prest
against destruction's fiery breasts
cannot forever stop the day
when beauty falls before faint praise.
But when so many years they wear
those buds and blooms and seeds for heirs,
when hope on broken branches lain
in spring revives and grabs the reigns,
then all creations made by me
seem naught by wonders of the trees.
-Robert Stone