A High-Toned Old Christian Woman
Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.
Take the moral law and make a nave of it
And from the nave build haunted heaven. Thus,
The conscience is converted into palms,
Like windy citherns hankering for hymns.
We agree in principle. That's clear. But take
The opposing law and make a peristyle,
And from the peristyle project a masque
Beyond the planets. Thus, our bawdiness,
Unpurged by epitaph, indulged at last,
Is equally converted into palms,
Squiggling like saxophones. And palm for palm,
Madame, we are where we began. Allow,
Therefore, that in the planetary scene
Your disaffected flagellants, well-stuffed,
Smacking their muzzy bellies in parade,
Proud of such novelties of the sublime,
Such tink and tank and tunk-a-tunk-tunk,
May, merely may, madame, whip from themselves
A jovial hullabaloo among the spheres.
This will make widows wince. But fictive things
Wink as they will. Wink most when widows wince.
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Comments about this poem (A High-Toned Old Christian Woman by Wallace Stevens )
Did you read them?
- Deepavali, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Psalm CVII, Henry Ainsworth
- Even in strife, hasmukh amathalal
- ! DESECRATED POEMS/FLOATING HYPERLINK IN.., Alice Vedral Rivera
- In the midst of ruin there is reparation, Mark Heathcote
- Psalm XXIII, Henry Ainsworth
- Moral on love., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Dreamcatcher, Kwai Chee Low
- etc, gordon nosworthy
- And they ruined my family, Cyndi K. Gacosta
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