For A Poet Poem by Countee Cullen
For A Poet
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold;
Where long will cling the lips of the moth,
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;
I hide no hate; I am not even wroth
Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold;
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold.
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold; Where long will cling the lips of the moth, I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth; Wonderful imagination. tony
Do moths have lips? Honestly - or was line entirely contrived in order to rhyme with another?
Right on, John. I don't think moths have lips, either, but my BUTTERFLY OF DEATH does.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 1:44:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Does this remind anyone of Yeats?