I suspect Poe would have smoked
Whitman's grass and not gotten high
A lot of aroma without the lift
But he would have loved Emily's flowers
Always the lady's man having lost
All three of his mothers
Their stark marriage would have been
A new intelligence for the child
Of the poem prematurely buried
A little bell ringing in the coffin
Now they're having tea in heaven
Two kinds of bread and cakes
And Whitman visits every morning
Still lusty for goodness sakes
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