Monday, December 10, 2012

Adelaide Crapsey

Among the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of
              brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July,
                             I read your heart in a book.

And your mouth of blue pansy--I know somewhere I have
              seen it rain-shattered.

And I have seen a woman with her head flung between her
             naked knees, and her head held there listening to the
             sea, the great naked sea shouldering a load of salt.

And the blue pansy mouth sang to the sea:
                          Mother of God, I'm so little a thing,
                          Let me sing longer,
                          Only a little longer.

And the sea shouldered its salt in long gray combers hauling
               new shapes on the beach sand.

Carl Sandburg

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