To Dorothy
by Marvin Bell
You are not beautiful, exactly.
You are beautiful, inexactly.
You let a weed grow by the mulberry
And a mulberry grow by the house.
So close, in the personal quiet
Of a windy night, it brushes the wall
And sweeps away the day till we sleep.
A child said it, and it seemed true:
“Things that are lost are all equal.”
But it isn’t true. If I lost you,
The air wouldn’t move, nor the tree grow.
Someone would pull the weed, my flower.
The quiet wouldn’t be yours. If I lost you,
I’d have to ask the grass to let me sleep.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Irish Love Song by Margaret Widdemer
- A Writer’s Pen by Sahiti Siddharth
- Гавриил Державин – Капнисту
- My Mother’s Body by Marge Piercy
- The Immigrant
- Love Sonnet LVIII poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- Ольга Берггольц – Она дарить любила
- Madonna poem – Alfred Austin
- The Mother Of God by William Butler Yeats
- 71 Ways For A Writer To Make Money
- Омар Хайям – О друге я мечтал, но им не стал никто
- Voltaire At Ferney by W H Auden
- Night At The Marina by Shreekumar Varma
- Robert Burns: Extemporaneous Effusion: On being appointed to an Excise division.
- Poppies In July by Sylvia Plath
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
