The Little ReviewVol. IIJANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916No. 10Copyright, 1916, by Margaret C. Anderson
The Little Review
Vol. IIJANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916No. 10
Vol. IIJANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916No. 10
Vol. II
JANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916
No. 10
Copyright, 1916, by Margaret C. Anderson
H. D.
We can not weather all this goldNor stand under the gold from elm-treesAnd the re-coated sallows.We can not hold our heads erectUnder this golden dust.We can not standWhere enclosures for the fruitDrop hot—radiant—slight petalsFrom each branch.We can not see:The dog-wood breaks—white—The pear-tree has caught—The apple is a red blaze—The peach has already withered its own leaves—The wild plum-tree is alight.
We can not weather all this goldNor stand under the gold from elm-treesAnd the re-coated sallows.We can not hold our heads erectUnder this golden dust.We can not standWhere enclosures for the fruitDrop hot—radiant—slight petalsFrom each branch.We can not see:The dog-wood breaks—white—The pear-tree has caught—The apple is a red blaze—The peach has already withered its own leaves—The wild plum-tree is alight.
We can not weather all this goldNor stand under the gold from elm-treesAnd the re-coated sallows.We can not hold our heads erectUnder this golden dust.
We can not weather all this gold
Nor stand under the gold from elm-trees
And the re-coated sallows.
We can not hold our heads erect
Under this golden dust.
We can not standWhere enclosures for the fruitDrop hot—radiant—slight petalsFrom each branch.
We can not stand
Where enclosures for the fruit
Drop hot—radiant—slight petals
From each branch.
We can not see:The dog-wood breaks—white—The pear-tree has caught—The apple is a red blaze—The peach has already withered its own leaves—The wild plum-tree is alight.
We can not see:
The dog-wood breaks—white—
The pear-tree has caught—
The apple is a red blaze—
The peach has already withered its own leaves—
The wild plum-tree is alight.
The night has cut each from eachAnd curled the petals back from the stalkAnd under it in crisp rows:Under at an unfaltering pace,Under till the rinds break,Back till each bent leafIs parted from its stalk:Under at a grave pace,Under till the leaves are bentBack till they drop upon the earth,Back till they are all broken.O night,You take the petals of the roses in your hand,But leave the stark core of the roseTo perish on the branch.
The night has cut each from eachAnd curled the petals back from the stalkAnd under it in crisp rows:Under at an unfaltering pace,Under till the rinds break,Back till each bent leafIs parted from its stalk:Under at a grave pace,Under till the leaves are bentBack till they drop upon the earth,Back till they are all broken.O night,You take the petals of the roses in your hand,But leave the stark core of the roseTo perish on the branch.
The night has cut each from eachAnd curled the petals back from the stalkAnd under it in crisp rows:
The night has cut each from each
And curled the petals back from the stalk
And under it in crisp rows:
Under at an unfaltering pace,Under till the rinds break,Back till each bent leafIs parted from its stalk:
Under at an unfaltering pace,
Under till the rinds break,
Back till each bent leaf
Is parted from its stalk:
Under at a grave pace,Under till the leaves are bentBack till they drop upon the earth,Back till they are all broken.
Under at a grave pace,
Under till the leaves are bent
Back till they drop upon the earth,
Back till they are all broken.
O night,You take the petals of the roses in your hand,But leave the stark core of the roseTo perish on the branch.
O night,
You take the petals of the roses in your hand,
But leave the stark core of the rose
To perish on the branch.