Saturday, November 30, 2013

A Violin At Dusk, Luzette Woodworth Reese

A Violin at Dusk
by Lizette Woodworth Reese
 
 
Stumble to silence, all you uneasy things, 
That pack the day with bluster and with fret. 
For here is music at each window set; 
Here is a cup which drips with all the springs 
That ever bud a cowslip flower; a roof 
To shelter till the argent weathers break; 
A candle with enough of light to make 
My courage bright against each dark reproof. 
A hand's width of clear gold, unraveled out 
The rosy sky, the little moon appears; 
As they were splashed upon the paling red, 
Vast, blurred, the village poplars lift about. 
I think of young, lost things: of lilacs; tears; 
I think of an old neighbor, long since dead. 
  
  

Today's poem is in the public domain. 

About This Poem 
Lizette Woodworth Reese's poetry often evokes images of her rural childhood. This imagery along with her condensed form and colloquial language influenced younger poets, including Edna St. Vincent Millay and Louise Bogan. 

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