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Side 217
AT DAWN Since , down - sinking , the woman bids us come Deeper , yet deeper , where the sea is wide , And because she is warm and cries out to us : come , Come nearer , come in where the bread is warm , So shall she be for us our bread ...
AT DAWN Since , down - sinking , the woman bids us come Deeper , yet deeper , where the sea is wide , And because she is warm and cries out to us : come , Come nearer , come in where the bread is warm , So shall she be for us our bread ...
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... come too strong that comes Before the eyes have learnt to take its glare , Little caring that to dark bodies like ours Long used to the cloak of the twilight Noon comes bringing nakedness And the shame that comes with nakedness .
... come too strong that comes Before the eyes have learnt to take its glare , Little caring that to dark bodies like ours Long used to the cloak of the twilight Noon comes bringing nakedness And the shame that comes with nakedness .
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I can't sit here talking because I've got a friend coming for lunch , and I've got to get the place fixed up before Mr. Lincoln comes back . You'll like him . He's going to live here too . Here , can you carry that ?
I can't sit here talking because I've got a friend coming for lunch , and I've got to get the place fixed up before Mr. Lincoln comes back . You'll like him . He's going to live here too . Here , can you carry that ?
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Prose | 3 |
RICHARD BENTLEY Hal | 13 |
PETER PARSONS The Groin Clawing Itch | 30 |
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Anne arms asked birds body called comes course dark death don't door eyes face feel feet felt friends girl give glass GLORIA going Gordon green hair hand Haven head hold it's Jane John kiss knew lady laughed leaves letter light lips Literary Magazine LITTLE GIRL living looked mean mind Miss moon Mother mouth moved never night once paintings past play poems poet poetry published rain remember seemed smile sound stand steps stone stopped Street summer sure SYBIL talk tell things thought told trees turned voice waiting walked wall wallabies watch Willie wind window wonder writing Yale Literary Magazine York young