Leave-Taking
I do not know where either of us can turn Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other.
I do not know how we can bear The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon,
Or many trees shaken together in the darkness.
We shall wish not to be alone And that love were not dispersed and set free— Though you defeat me,
And I be heavy upon you.
But like earth heaped over the heart Is love grown perfect.
Like a shell over the beat of life Is love perfect to the last.
So let it be the same Whether we turn to the dark or to the kiss of another;
Let us know this for leavetaking,
That I may not be heavy upon you,
That you may blind me no more.
Louise Bogan
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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,
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I’ve come to give you fruit from out my orchard, Of wide report I have trees there that bear me many apples Of every sort:
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We have struck the regions wherein we are keel or reef The wind breaks over us, And against high sharp angles almost splits into words, And these are of fear or grief
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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,