Conrad Potter Aiken

Conrad Potter Aiken

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Conrad Potter Aiken (August 5, 1889 – August 17, 1973) was an American writer and poet, honored with a Pulitzer Prize, a National Book Award, and was U.S. Poet Laureate from 1950 to 1952. His published works include poetry, short stories, novels, literary criticism, a play, and an autobiography.
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Music I Heard

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Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead
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Improvisations Light And Snow 15

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The music of the morning is red and warm;
Snow lies against the walls;
And on the sloping roof in the yellow
Pigeons huddle against the wind
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Improvisations Light And Snow 09

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This girl gave her heart to me,
And this, and this
This one looked at me as if she loved me,
And silently walked away
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Herman Melville

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‘My towers at last
’— What meant the word from what acknowledged circuit sprung and in the heart and on the tongue at sight of few familiar birds when seaward his last sail unfurled to leeward from the wheel once more bloomed the pale crags o...
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Improvisations Light And Snow 03

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The first bell is silver,
And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time
The second bell is crimson,
And I think of a holiday night, with
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A Letter From Li Po

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Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay windannounces autumn, and the equinoxrolls back blue bays to a far afternoon
Somewhere beyond the Gorge Li Po is gone,looking for friendship or an old love's sleeveor writing letters to his children, lost,...
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Improvisations Light And Snow 12

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How many times have we been
Just as I was about to make up a story for you
One time it was because we suddenly saw a
Lighting his green lantern among the boughs of a fir-tree
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Improvisations Light And Snow 11

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As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes
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Improvisations Light And Snow 02

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I stood for a long while before the shop
Looking at the blue butterflies embroidered on tawny silk
The building was a tower before me,
Time was loud behind me,
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How Is It That I Am Now So Softly Awakened

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How is it that I am now so softly awakened,
My leaves shaken down with music
—Darling,
I love you
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Evening Song Of Senlin

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It is moonlight
Alone in the silence I ascend my stairs once more,
While waves, remote in a pale blue starlight,
Crash on a white sand shore
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The Dance Of Life

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Gracious and lovable and sweet, She made his jaded pulses beat, And made the glare of streets grow dim And life more soft and hushed for him…
Over her shoulder now she smiled Trustfully to him, like a child, The while her fingers gayly moved ...
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Red Is The Color Of Blood

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Red is the color of blood, and I will seek it:
I have sought it in the grass
It is the color of steep sun seen through eyelids
It is hidden under the suave flesh of women— Flows there, quietly flows
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Morning Song Of Senlin

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It is morning,
Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise,
I face the sunrise,
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Improvisations Light And Snow 04

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On the day when my uncle and I drove to the cemetery,
Rain rattled on the roof of the carriage;
And talkng constrainedly of this and
We refrained from looking at the child’s coffin on the seat before us
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Improvisations Light And Snow 07

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The day opens with the brown light of
And past the window snowflakes fall and fall
I sit in my chair all day and work and
Measuring words against each other
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