Tag Archives: cold

Picnic by Adrienne Rich

Sunday in Inwood Park the picnic eaten the chicken bones scattered for the fox we’ll never see the children playing in the caves My death is folded in my pocket like a nylon raincoat What kind of sunlight is it … Continue reading

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Prospice by Robert Browning

Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the … Continue reading

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Clear Night by Charles Wright

Clear night, thumb-top of a moon, a back-lit sky. Moon-fingers lay down their same routine On the side deck and the threshold, the white keys and the black keys. Bird hush and bird song. A cassia flower falls. I want … Continue reading

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My Last Duchess by Robert Browning

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will’t please you sit and look at her? … Continue reading

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The Death of a Soldier by Wallace Stevens

Life contracts and death is expected, As in a season of autumn. The soldier falls. He does not become a three-days personage. Imposing his separation, Calling for pomp. Death is absolute and without memorial, As in a season of autumn, … Continue reading

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