William De Witt Snodgrass
William De Witt Snodgrass Poems
|1.||Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring (1 April 1945)||1/3/2012|
|2.||Vuillard: “the Mother And Sister Of The Artist”||1/3/2012|
|4.||The Campus On The Hill||1/3/2012|
|5.||The Poet Ridiculed By Hysterical Academics||1/3/2012|
|7.||A Locked House||1/3/2012|
|8.||Who Steals My Good Name||1/3/2012|
|9.||Magda Goebbels (30 April 1945)||1/3/2012|
|12.||After Experience Taught Me ...||1/3/2012|
|14.||Monet: “les Nymphéas”||1/3/2012|
The green catalpa tree has turned
All white; the cherry blooms once more.
In one whole year I haven't learned
A blessed thing they pay you for.
The blossoms snow down in my hair;
The trees and I will soon be bare.
The trees have more than I to spare.
The sleek, expensive girls I teach,
Younger and pinker every year,
Bloom gradually out of reach.
The pear tree lets its petals drop
Like dandruff on a tabletop.
The girls have grown so young by now
I have to nudge myself to stare.
This year they smile and mind me how
My teeth are falling with my...
Monet: “les Nymphéas”
The eyelids glowing, some chill morning.
O world half-known through opening, twilit lids
Before the vague face clenches into light;
O universal waters like a cloud,
Like those first clouds of half-created matter;
O all things rising, rising like the fumes
From waters falling, O forever falling;
Infinite, the skeletal shells that fall, relinquished,
The snowsoft sift of the diatoms, like selves