Anne Sexton

(9 November 1928 – 4 October 1974 / Newton, Massachusetts)

Anne Sexton Poems

1. Song For A Lady 8/7/2015
2. The Legend Of The One-Eyed Man 3/29/2010
3. The House 3/29/2010
4. The Road Back 3/29/2010
5. Some Foreign Letters 3/29/2010
6. The Fury Of Jewels And Coal 3/29/2010
7. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall 3/29/2010
8. The Firebombers 3/29/2010
9. The Kite 3/29/2010
10. The Child Bearers 3/29/2010
11. The Stand-Ins 3/29/2010
12. The Fury Of Cooks 3/29/2010
13. Where I Live In This Honorable House Of The Laurel Tree 3/29/2010
14. Raccoon 3/29/2010
15. Old 3/29/2010
16. The Fallen Angels 3/29/2010
17. The Fury Of Earth 3/29/2010
18. The Fury Of Overshoes 3/29/2010
19. For Johnny Pole On The Forgotten Beach 3/29/2010
20. The Moss Of His Skin 3/29/2010
21. The Waiting Head 3/29/2010
22. The Errand 3/29/2010
23. The Fury Of Guitars And Sopranos 3/29/2010
24. The Expatriates 3/29/2010
25. Letter Written On A Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound 3/29/2010
26. The Fury Of God's Good-Bye 3/29/2010
27. The Fury Of Sunrises 3/29/2010
28. What's That 3/29/2010
29. The Other 3/29/2010
30. With Mercy For The Greedy 3/29/2010
31. The Fury Of Rain Storms 3/29/2010
32. Hutch 3/29/2010
33. The Lost Ingredient 3/29/2010
34. The Hangman 3/29/2010
35. Torn Down From Glory Daily 3/29/2010
36. The Fury Of Abandonment 3/29/2010
37. The Touch 3/29/2010
38. The Fury Of Hating Eyes 3/29/2010
39. The Wedding Ring Dance 3/29/2010
40. Funnel 3/29/2010
Best Poem of Anne Sexton

45 Mercy Street

In my dream,
drilling into the marrow
of my entire bone,
my real dream,
I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill
searching for a street sign -
namely MERCY STREET.
Not there.

I try the Back Bay.
Not there.
Not there.
And yet I know the number.
45 Mercy Street.
I know the stained-glass window
of the foyer,
the three flights of the house
with its parquet floors.
I know the furniture and
mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
the servants.
I know the cupboard of Spode
the boat of ice, solid silver,
where the ...

Read the full of 45 Mercy Street

After Auschwitz

Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.

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