Car poems
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A Time to Weep
© Craig Erick Chaffin
I suppose you could call me heartless
as a dull anvil clanking in a sodden barn,
the damp wood too lazy to echo your pain;
and your limbs twisted like great roots,
Invocation
© Marilyn Hacker
This is for Elsa, also known as Liz,
an ample-bosomed gospel singer: five
discrete malignancies in one full breast.
This is for auburn Jacqueline, who is
For K. J., Leaving and Coming Back
© Marilyn Hacker
August First: it was a year ago
we drove down from St.-Guilhem-le-Désert
to open the house in St. Guiraud
Exiles
© Marilyn Hacker
Her brown falcon perches above the sink
as steaming water forks over my hands.
Below the wrists they shrivel and turn pink.
I am in exile in my own land.
Desesperanto
© Marilyn Hacker
After Joseph RothParce que c'était lui; parce que c'était moi.
Montaigne, De L'amitiëThe dream's forfeit was a night in jail
and now the slant light is crepuscular.
Papers or not, you are a foreigner
The Nymph's Song to Hylas
© William Morris
I KNOW a little garden-close
Set thick with lily and red rose,
Where I would wander if I might
From dewy dawn to dewy night,
And have one with me wandering.
The Earthly Paradise: The Lady of the Land
© William Morris
The ArgumentA certain man having landed on an island in the Greek sea, found there a beautifuldamsel, whom he would fain have delivered from a strange & dreadful doom, butfailing herein, he died soon afterwards.
It happened once, some men of Italy
Midst the Greek Islands went a sea-roving,
And much good fortune had they on the sea:
The Defence of Guenevere
© William Morris
But, learning now that they would have her speak,
She threw her wet hair backward from her brow,
Her hand close to her mouth touching her cheek,
Sir Galahad, a Christmas Mystery
© William Morris
It is the longest night in all the year,
Near on the day when the Lord Christ was born;
Six hours ago I came and sat down here,
And ponder'd sadly, wearied and forlorn.
King Arthur's Tomb
© William Morris
Hot August noon: already on that day
Since sunrise through the Wiltshire downs, most sad
Of mouth and eye, he had gone leagues of way;
Ay and by night, till whether good or bad
In Arthur's House
© William Morris
"As quoth the lion to the mouse,"
The man said; "in King Arthur's House
Men are not names of men alone,
But coffers rather of deeds done."
Earth the Healer, Earth the Keeper
© William Morris
So swift the hours are moving
Unto the time unproved:
Farewell my love unloving,
Farewell my love beloved!
Atalanta's Race
© William Morris
Through such fair things unto the gates he came,
And found them open, as though peace were there;
Wherethrough, unquestioned of his race or name,
He entered, and along the streets 'gan fare,
Which at the first of folk were well-nigh bare;
But pressing on, and going more hastily,
The White Cliffs
© Alice Duer Miller
Yet I have loathed those voices when the sense
Of what they said seemed to me insolence,
As if the dominance of the whole nation
Lay in that clear correct enunciation.
Village Mystery
© Elinor Wylie
The woman in the pointed hood
And cloak blue-gray like a pigeon's wing,
Whose orchard climbs to the balsam-wood,
Has done a cruel thing.
Valentine
© Elinor Wylie
Too high, too high to pluck
My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.
The Fairy Goldsmith
© Elinor Wylie
Here's a wonderful thing,
A humming-bird's wing
In hammered gold,
And store well chosen
Of snowflakes frozen
In crystal cold.
The Church-Bell
© Elinor Wylie
As I was lying in my bed
I heard the church-bell ring;
Before one solemn word was said
A bird began to sing.
Nancy
© Elinor Wylie
If you are flame, it dances and burns blue;
If you are light, it pierces like a star
Intenser than a needlepoint of ice.
The dextrous touch that shaped the soul of you,
Mingled, to mix, and make you what you are,
Magic between the sugar and the spice.
A Proud Lady
© Elinor Wylie
Hate in the world's hand
Can carve and set its seal
Like the strong blast of sand
Which cuts into steel.
