Friday, February 15, 2013

Sometimes with One I Love
by Walt Whitman
Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for 
   fear I effuse unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love, the pay 

   is certain one way or another,
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was 

   not return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs.)

Saturday, February 9, 2013

I scald alone...

The Letter
by Amy Lowell
Little cramped words scrawling all over the paper
Like draggled fly's legs,
What can you tell of the flaring moon
Through the oak leaves?
Or of my uncertain window and the bare floor
Spattered with moonlight?
Your silly quirks and twists have nothing in them
Of blossoming hawthorns,
And this paper is dull, crisp, smooth, virgin of loveliness
Beneath my hand.

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
And I scald alone, here, under the fire
Of the great moon.