James Merrill (3 March 1926 – 6 February 1995 / New York City, New York)
Poems of James Merrill
|1.||A Mysterious Epigraph||5/9/2012|
|2.||An Urban Convalescence||5/9/2012|
|7.||The Broken Home||5/9/2012|
|8.||The Candid Decorator||5/9/2012|
|9.||The Puzzle is no Puzzle||5/9/2012|
|10.||The Victor Dog||1/20/2003|
|11.||Voices from the Other World||5/9/2012|
The panes flash, tremble with your ghostly passage
Through them, an x-ray sheerness billowing, and I have risen
But cannot speak, remembering only that one was meant
To rise and not to speak. Young storm, this house is yours.
Let our eye darken, your rain come, the candle reeling
Deep in what still reflects control itself and me.
Daybreak's great gray rust-veined irises humble and proud
Along your path will have laid their foreheads in the dust.