Fall of the Evening Star
Speak softly; sun going down
Out of sight. Come near me now.
Dear dying fall of wings as birds
complain against the gathering dark...
Exaggerate the green blood in grass;
the music of leaves scraping space;
Multiply the stillness by one sound;
by one syllable of your name...
And all that is little is soon giant,
all that is rare grows in common beauty
To rest with my mouth on your mouth
as somewhere a star falls
And the earth takes it softly, in natural love...
Exactly as we take each other...
and go to sleep...
Kenneth Patchen's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Fall of the Evening Star by Kenneth Patchen )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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