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Edit box size: ⇓ More rows Reset to default size ⇒ More columns Here, where I plant my corn as usual each spring and gather it into shock each fall and where all you think or might think of me and all the town thinks is as clear to me as my pigeons flying, were to me then-- From this ploughed field where I stand I see that they have cut down my dogwoods and my oaks and that they are beginning to put up your new high school. You are wondering, perhaps, some of you, what I am thinking now -- since I am dead and had refused to cut up my farm for this project: --to be called the Peter Kipp High School that I might be known as a public benefactor forever! And my answer is that I loved my woods and fields more than I loved you and that I feel the same today. You have taken that which I loved and destroyed it. It is yours. you are the new generation. I have had my time. But if any imagines that death has softened my heart, he is a fool. As far as my name is concerned-- let it go. It's dead. Worn out -- worn out loving trees and grass that no longer exist. Do I want my name on the front of your high school like a head on a pole? You have what you need. It is good. But remeber: You took it. I never gave it. And remember this also: I loved what I had and kept it close to me. For this reason alone You had today a place on which to build. Fool though you thought me when you'd burn down my hay-ricks and trample my rye, you boys-- and girls too, I tell you, that though I was ugly and maimed by that which I had been able to endure, that in life I worked and loved and held to that which I loved till death undid my fingers. Learn that. -- ''William Carlos Williams, 1921'' This is a minor edit.
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