Denise Levertov

(24 October 1923 – 20 December 1997 / Ilford, Essex)

Denise Levertov Poems

1. Making Peace 12/4/2014
2. The Sage 5/1/2011
3. News Report, September 1991 4/8/2010
4. Partial Resemblance 4/8/2010
5. Song For Ishtar 4/8/2010
6. Prisoners 4/8/2010
7. Matins 4/8/2010
8. A Map Of The Western Part Of The County Of Essex In England 4/8/2010
9. In California: Morning, Evening, Late January 4/8/2010
10. Eros 4/8/2010
11. Ein Baum Erzählt Von Orpheus 4/8/2010
12. The Springtime 4/8/2010
13. February Evening In New York 4/8/2010
14. Goodbye To Tolerance 4/8/2010
15. Hypocrite Women 4/8/2010
16. A Time Past 4/8/2010
17. Caedmon 4/8/2010
18. Triple Feature 1/3/2003
19. Clouds 4/8/2010
20. The Great Black Heron 1/3/2003
21. St. Peter And The Angel 1/3/2003
22. Sojourns In The Parallel World 1/3/2003
23. Psalm Concerning The Castle 1/3/2003
24. The Quest 1/3/2003
25. The Well 1/3/2003
26. The Dog Of Art 1/3/2003
27. The Sea's Wash In The Hollow Of The Heart... 1/3/2003
28. September 1961 1/3/2003
29. On A Theme By Thomas Merton 1/3/2003
30. To The Reader 1/3/2003
31. The Garden Wall 1/3/2003
32. Wanting The Moon 1/3/2003
33. Settling 1/3/2003
34. Seeing For A Moment 1/13/2003
35. People At Night 1/3/2003
36. The Thread 1/13/2003
37. On The Mystery Of The Incarnation 1/3/2003
38. The Métier Of Blossoming 1/3/2003
39. Web 1/3/2003
40. Zeroing In 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Denise Levertov

What Were They Like?

Did the people of Viet Nam
use lanterns of stone?
Did they hold ceremonies
to reverence the opening of buds?
Were they inclined to quiet laughter?
Did they use bone and ivory,
jade and silver, for ornament?
Had they an epic poem?
Did they distinguish between speech and singing?

Sir, their light hearts turned to stone.
It is not remembered whether in gardens
stone gardens illumined pleasant ways.
Perhaps they gathered once to delight in blossom,
but after their children were killed
there were no more buds.
Sir, laughter is bitter to the burned ...

Read the full of What Were They Like?

Intrusion

After I had cut off my hands
and grown new ones

something my former hands had longed for
came and asked to be rocked.

After my plucked out eyes
had withered, and new ones grown

something my former eyes had wept for
came asking to be pitied.

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