Spring 1961 • Vol. XXIII No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 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 rooms That have become my intimate relations, Brimmed with your presence where your absence blooms—And did you come at last, come home to tell How all fulfillment tastes of a farewell? Here is the room where you lay down full length That whole first day, to read, and hardly stirred, As if arrival had taken all your strength; Here is the table where you bent to write The morning through, and silence spoke its word; And here, beside the fire, we talked, as night Flooded up from the wood across the meadow To frame half of our brilliant world in shadow. The rich fulfillment came; we held it all; Four years of struggle brought us to this season, Then in one week our summer turned to fall; The air chilled and we felt the chill in us, The passionate journey ending in sweet reason. The autumn light was there, frost on the gra

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A Village Tale

By May Sarton

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 […]

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