Winter 1954 • Vol. XVI No. 1 Poetry |

A Voice from under the Table

How shall the wine be drunk, or the woman known? I take this world for better or for worse, But seeing rose carafes conceive the sun My thirst conceives a fierier universe: And then I toast the birds in the burning trees That chant their holy lucid drunkenness; I swallowed all the phosphorus of the seas Before I fell into this low distress. You upright people all remember how Love drove you first to the woods, and there you heard The loose-mouthed wind complaining Thou and Thou; My gawky limbs were shuddered by the word. Most of it since was nothing but charades To spell that hankering out and make an end, But the softest hands against my shoulder-blades Only increased the crying of the wind. For this the goddess rose from the midland sea And stood above the famous wine-dark wave, To ease our drouth with clearer mystery And be a South to all our flights of love. And down by the selfsame water I have seen A blazing girl with skin like polished stone Splashing until a far-out

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Richard Wilbur was the author of nine volumes of poetry. He was the winner of two Pulitzer Prizes among many other awards, and was this nation's second poet laureate.

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Height

By Josephine Miles

How shall the wine be drunk, or the woman known? I take this world for better or for worse, But seeing rose carafes conceive the sun My thirst conceives a […]

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