The Swan II
Paris may change- my spleen- no way!
Shiny new palaces, annexes, blocks,
All for me become allegory
Making memory heavier than rocks.
Again, before this Louvre, the thing recurs-
I see my poor swan, hear its fruitless prayers
And mull the heart of every exile
Endlessly gnawed by longing. And, of you
'Andromache- beside Hector's yet-empty tomb
Passed from the arms of a brave man
To his slayer's son and on to those of Helenus:
Once the wife of Hector, now his brother's.
I think of the Black, feverish and poor,
Rocking in the sand, staring tired-eyed
Toward the shores of a savage Africa
Where things come all at once to unruly fruition
And all who've lost what can never return.
Who banquet on tears
Who suckle the breasts of Despair
And wane like flowers watered with salt-rain.
Thrilled in its wood, my soul hears
Gone memories ring like clarions;
I think of sailors stranded on isles,
Of prisoners, of homeless, and others, still.
from the French of Baudelaire
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Comments about this poem (The Swan II by Morgan Michaels )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- If, Rudyard Kipling