Louise Bogan Poems
|2.||To Be Sung On The Water||10/24/2013|
|3.||Statue And Birds||4/15/2010|
|5.||Words For Departure||1/13/2003|
|7.||Chanson Un Peu Naïve||1/13/2003|
|8.||Solitary Observation Brought Back From A Sojourn In Hell||1/3/2003|
|13.||The Frightened Man||1/13/2003|
|14.||Epitaph For A Romantic Woman||1/3/2003|
|17.||Men Loved Wholly Beyond Wisdom||1/3/2003|
|20.||Tears In Sleep||1/3/2003|
|23.||Last Hill In A Vista||1/3/2003|
|24.||To A Dead Lover||4/15/2010|
|25.||Song For The Last Act||1/13/2003|
|26.||The Crossed Apple||1/3/2003|
O God, in the dream the terrible horse began
To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows,
Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane,
And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose.
Coward complete, I lay and wept on the ground
When some strong creature appeared, and leapt for the rein.
Another woman, as I lay half in a swound
Leapt in the air, and clutched at the leather and chain.
Give him, she said, something of yours as a charm.
Throw him, she said, some poor thing you alone claim.
No, no, I cried, he hates me; ...
This youth too long has heard the break
Of waters in a land of change.
He goes to see what suns can make
From soil more indurate and strange.
He cuts what holds his days together
And shuts him in, as lock on lock:
The arrowed vane announcing weather,
The tripping racket of a clock;