Poetry
Spring 1961
A Village Tale
Why did the woman want to kill one dog? Perhaps he was too lively, made her nervous, A vivid terrier, restless, always barking, And so unlike the gentle German shepherd— […]
Poetry
Spring 1961
Der Abschied
Now frost has broken summer like a glass, This house and I resume our conversations; The floors whisper a message as I pass, I wander up and down these empty […]
Poetry
Spring 1946
My Sisters, O My Sisters
I ”Nous qui voulions poser, image ineffaceable Comme un delta divin notre main sur le sable” —Anna de Noailles Dorothy Wordsworth, dying, did not want to read, “I am too busy […]