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. Where I Live In This Honorable House Of The Laurel Tree 3/29/2010
5. The Errand 3/29/2010
6. The Fury Of Jewels And Coal 3/29/2010
7. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall 3/29/2010
8. The Firebombers 3/29/2010
9. Torn Down From Glory Daily 3/29/2010
10. The Road Back 3/29/2010
11. Letter Written On A Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound 3/29/2010
12. Raccoon 3/29/2010
13. The House 3/29/2010
14. The Child Bearers 3/29/2010
15. With Mercy For The Greedy 3/29/2010
16. The Fury Of Cooks 3/29/2010
17. The Kite 3/29/2010
18. The Fury Of Rain Storms 3/29/2010
19. The Bells 3/29/2010
20. The Fury Of Earth 3/29/2010
21. For Johnny Pole On The Forgotten Beach 3/29/2010
22. The Break 3/29/2010
23. The Waiting Head 3/29/2010
24. The Fury Of Overshoes 3/29/2010
25. Funnel 3/29/2010
26. Old Dwarf Heart 3/29/2010
27. The Fallen Angels 3/29/2010
28. The Fury Of God's Good-Bye 3/29/2010
29. The Stand-Ins 3/29/2010
30. Ringing The Bells 3/29/2010
31. Old 3/29/2010
32. The Play 3/29/2010
33. The Other 3/29/2010
34. The Fury Of Hating Eyes 3/29/2010
35. The Farmer's Wife 3/29/2010
36. To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph 3/29/2010
37. The Death King 3/29/2010
38. Knee Song 3/29/2010
39. The Lost Ingredient 3/29/2010
40. The Expatriates 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

Music Swims Back To Me

Wait Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
four ladies, over eighty,
in diapers every one of them.
La la la, Oh music swims back to me
and I can feel the tune they played
the night they left me

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