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Now that I
How passion warms
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle,—I'll lie here and
How, over their
Trees make a long
And a light sound.
Louise Bogan
Louise Bogan (August 11, 1897 – February 4, 1970) was an American poet. She was appointed the fourth Poet Laureate to the Library of Congress in
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Cassandra
To me, one silly task is like another I bare the shambling tricks of lust and pride This flesh will never give a child its mother,— Song, like a wing, tears through my breast, my side, And madness chooses out my voice again,
The Alchemist
I burned my life, that I might findA passion wholly of the mind, Thought divorced from eye and bone, Ecstasy come to breath alone I broke my life, to seek
Last Hill In A Vista
Come, let us tell the weeds in How we are poor, who once had riches, And lie out in the sparse and Pastures that the cows have trodden,
Song For The Last Act
Now that I have your face by heart, I Less at its features than its darkening Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,
