Denise Levertov

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

Denise Levertov Poems

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

Contraband

The tree of knowledge was the tree of reason.
That's why the taste of it
drove us from Eden. That fruit
was meant to be dried and milled to a fine powder
for use a pinch at a time, a condiment.
God had probably planned to tell us later
about this new pleasure.
We stuffed our mouths full of it,
gorged on but and if and how and again

[Hata Bildir]