Delmore Schwartz

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The children of the Czar
Played with a bouncing ball

In the May morning, in the Czar’ s garden,
Tossing it back and forth.

It fell among the flowerbeds
Or fled to the north gate.

A daylight moon hung up
In the Western sky, bald white.

Like Papa’ s face, said Sister,
Hurling the white ball forth.

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