If I knew what poets know, Would I write a rhyme Of the buds that never blow In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow, If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do, Would I sing a song Sadder than the pigeon's coo When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain, I would make it glad again; And the false should be the true, Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know, I would find a theme Sweeter than the placid flow Of the fairest dream: I would sing of love that lives On the errors it forgives; And the world would better grow If I knew what poets know.
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