Poems

Petals by Amy Lowell
Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart;The end lost in dream,They float past our view,We only watch their glad, early start. Freighted with hope,Crimsoned with joy,We scatter the leaves of our opening rose;Their widening scope, Their distant employ,We never shall know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away,Each one is goneEver beyond into infinite ways.We alone stay While years hurry on,The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.



To Be In Love by Gwendolyn Brooks
To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. You look at things Through his eyes. A cardinal is red. A sky is blue. Suddenly you know he knows too. He is not there but You know you are tasting together The winter, or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is overmuch. Too much to bear. You cannot look in his eyes Because your pulse must not say What must not be said. When he Shuts a door- Is not there_ Your arms are water. And you are free With a ghastly freedom. You are the beautiful half Of a golden hurt. You remember and covet his mouth To touch, to whisper on. Oh when to declare Is certain Death! Oh when to apprize Is to mesmerize, To see fall down, the Column of Gold, Into the commonest ash.