September 17, 1941
A Winter Shore
1. What the sea does winters,What to summer’s wreck,It does well. What old hull isNot borne under, swept bare,Shattered, buried in the sand, A broken shell? Winter hasNo other undertow like this,The […]
September 17, 1941
Notes on a New England Winter
I. From the cold streets of CambridgeThe lapis and basalt of St. Paul’sMakes disturbing division, a goldenAnd Byzantine disarray. Hath notSome golden Paleologus of the City CouncilOrdained this disorderly splendor?Jumbled […]
September 17, 1941
Boy at a Christmas Tree
The snow falls softly, softly whereThinking of islands, how the dead boys freeze,I thought of islands, îlots de mémoire;The retreat and the approach to the island in the pondDeep in […]
September 17, 1941
For My Twenty-Fifth Birthday, 1941
So sleep undoes itself and I arriveAwake to morning and to twenty-five.Outside the ramblers climb their strings toward summer,The finished lilacs tumble, and from somewhereThe whistles call the seven o’clocks […]