Harry Crosby

(4 June 1898 - 10 December 1929 / Boston, Massachusetts)

The Golden Gourd - Poem by Harry Crosby

What chance have snakes upon an asphalt road
When giant limousines go gliding by,
Of courtesans resolved to gratify
The lust of lovers seeking new abode?
I do not envy the unfriended toad
Nor airships falling from a marble sky
Nor mothers listening to their children cry
What chance have blades of grass on being mowed?

And yet the unmolested Sun rolls on
A ship of gold among the silver clouds
Or else a lady wrapped in silver shrouds
to mock the crescent moon's pale skeleton.

Which strengthens me to live with heart assured
For I have drunken from the golden gourd.


Comments about The Golden Gourd by Harry Crosby

  • Rookie - 169 Points Brian Jani (7/13/2014 3:46:00 PM)

    wow you write poetry about abstract tropics and you are good at what you do.bravo! ! (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 24, 2012



[Hata Bildir]