Thread: Need a Poem?
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Unread 09-19-2013, 05:14 PM   #357
Rush'd Lady
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Join Date: Jun 2004
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By D. H. Lawrence, 1885-1930

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself the insidious mastery of song.
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cozy parlor, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamor
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamor
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
~~ <> @ <> ~~
By Theodore Roethke, 1908-1963

I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,
Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paperweight,
All the misery of manila folders and mucilage,
Desolation in immaculate public places,
Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,
The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,
Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,
Endless duplication of lives and objects.

And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,
Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,
Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,
Dripping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,
Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate gray standard faces.
~~ <> @ <> ~~
Two Darlings in Heaven
By Mrs. Allie Criss.

Two little coffins lie side by side,
Two little forms in one tiny grave;
Two little darlings, our joy and pride,
Have crossed together the surging tide.

Two little faces will smile no more,
Two little voices are hushed and still;
Two little darlings have gone on before,
Waiting for us on the other shore.

Two little coffins lie side by side,
Ah, Me! It tells of a saddened home,
A home once as happy and filled with joy,
At the childish glee of each baby boy,
But never more will they come.

Never again will chubby fingers,
Quickly grasp where the sunbeam lingers,
Or pattering feet glide in and out;
As their voices ring in merry shout.

No more will the golden curls gleam bright,
Or blue eyes sparkle with love and light,
Never more will be clasped those pearly hands,
Or childish tones lisp to the dear ones, "good night."

Our babies have gone, death carried them o'er,
And now our home is so lonely and sad,
God help us reach safely that beautiful shore,
To dwell with them ever and part never more.
~> @ <~
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