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To A Young Writer

Achilles Holt, Stanford, 1930

Here for a few short years
Strengthen affections; meet,
Later, the dull arrears
Of age, and be discreet.

The angry blood burns low.
Some friend of lesser mind
Discerns you not; but so
Your solitude’s defined.

Write little; do it well.
Your knowledge will be such,
At last, as to dispel
What moves you overmuch.

poem by Yvor Winters
Added by Poetry Lover
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