Poetry
The Faith of Children Two boys. A hot, unmoving sun. No fish. Stepping unwatched and solemn into the river— Slow, muddy water, quickly to their waists— The boys wade out like pilgrims toward an island, …
Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on …
Sonnet 130 My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires …
After a picture by Jamie Wyeth February—(Februarius (mensis), (month) of purification februa>, expiatory offerings, poss. of Sabine orig.) —The American Heritage College Dictionary I In this trim girth of days came Valentine, A lover of …
A Legend of Truth Once on a time, the ancient legends tell, Truth, rising from the bottom of her well, Looked on the world, but, hearing how it lied, Returned to her seclusion horrified. There …
In Tenebris All within is warm, Here without it’s very cold, Now the year is grown so old And the dead leaves swarm. In your heart is light, Here without it’s very dark, When shall …
Child’s Play “Back in the day, . . . almost every boy would come to school . . . with . . . marbles (small colorful glass orbs about three-quarters of an inch in diameter).” …
The Passing of the Year My glass is filled, my pipe is lit, My den is all a cosy glow; And snug before the fire I sit, And wait to feel the old year go. …
For Cecilia It’s a party like any other We’ve ever been wallpapered and rugged Into — the food and drink disarrayed, the bother And mess left behind in the hosts’ kitchen For tomorrow and tomorrow …
The Lights on Rt. 10 Highway left behind, along the town’s rutted arm. Off ahead lights are piled, like painted covers of Long Island. Lens-flared traffic, hiking the rain home. I stand out in the …
To Mrs. —. WHERE are those hours, on rosy pinions borne, Which brought to every guiltless with success? When Pleasure gladden’d each returning morn, And every evening clos’d in calms of peace. How smil’d each …
To Lucasta, Going to the Wars Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now …
December In spangle of frost, and stars of snow, Unto his end the Year doth wend; And sad for some the days did go, And glad for some were beginning and end; But sad or …
St. Andrew’s Eve The last night of November All dreaming as I lay, I saw a fisher toiling In stormy seas and grey, — A glimmering seine-net casting In foam as white as wool . …
Ghost my romances are packed in an empty box spaceless slid clean across cold tile making faces that mimic art tricked into a large heart only bricks and buds to house in this smoky dining …
I stood in the flag-decked cheering crowd Where all but I were gay, And gazing on their extasy, My heart shrank in dismay. For theirs was the joy of the “little folk” The cruel glee …