Anne Sexton

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

Anne Sexton Poems

1. Song For A Lady 8/7/2015
2. Some Foreign Letters 3/29/2010
3. The Legend Of The One-Eyed Man 3/29/2010
4. The Child Bearers 3/29/2010
5. The Fury Of Cooks 3/29/2010
6. The House 3/29/2010
7. The Fallen Angels 3/29/2010
8. The Firebombers 3/29/2010
9. The Fury Of Overshoes 3/29/2010
10. The Stand-Ins 3/29/2010
11. Torn Down From Glory Daily 3/29/2010
12. The Road Back 3/29/2010
13. The Hangman 3/29/2010
14. The Touch 3/29/2010
15. Raccoon 3/29/2010
16. The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks 3/29/2010
17. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall 3/29/2010
18. With Mercy For The Greedy 3/29/2010
19. The Errand 3/29/2010
20. The Angel Food Dogs 3/29/2010
21. The Balance Wheel 3/29/2010
22. The Division Of Parts 3/29/2010
23. The Wedding Ring Dance 3/29/2010
24. Woman With Girdle 3/29/2010
25. The Bells 3/29/2010
26. The Assassin 3/29/2010
27. Old 3/29/2010
28. The Play 3/29/2010
29. The Other 3/29/2010
30. To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph 3/29/2010
31. The Break Away 3/29/2010
32. The Kite 3/29/2010
33. The Death King 3/29/2010
34. The Earth 3/29/2010
35. Knee Song 3/29/2010
36. The Lost Ingredient 3/29/2010
37. The Big Boots Of Pain 3/29/2010
38. Said The Poet To The Analyst 3/29/2010
39. Red Roses 3/29/2010
40. Where I Live In This Honorable House Of The Laurel Tree 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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