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Poor Earth

It is not heaven: bitter seed
Leavens its entrails with despair
It is a star where dragons breed:
Devils have a footing there.

The sky has bent it out of shape;
The sun has strapped it to his wheel;
Its course is crooked to escape
Traps and gins of stone and steel.

It balances on air, and spins
Snared by strong transparent space;
I forgive it all its sins;
I kiss the scars upon its face.

Elinor Morton Wylie

Read poems about / on: despair, star, kiss, heaven, sky, sun

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11/23/2008 7:57:19 AM. You Are Here: Poor Earth by Elinor Morton Wylie