poem of an author who never even tried to publish a collection in disapperance on the web, unfindable in recent collections of O Hara.s work.
aside: you want to understand Finnegan.s Wake by James Joice? try thinking yourself as seen as Irish from a fluvial town even in New York City and pay attention to the surroundings.
The Sea Is Awash With Roses - Frank O.Hara
The Sea is awash with roses O they blow
Upon the land
The Still hills fill with their scent
O the hills flow on their sweetness
As on God.s hand
O love, it is so little we know of pleasure
Pleasure that lasts as the snow
But the sea is awash with roses O they blow
Upon the land
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