Conrad Potter Aiken
Conrad Potter Aiken Poems
|121.||The House Of Dust: Part 02: 11: Snow Falls. The Sky Is Grey, And Sullenly Glares||1/1/2004|
|123.||Improvisations: Light And Snow||1/3/2003|
|125.||A Letter From Li Po||1/1/2004|
|126.||Evening Song Of Senlin||1/1/2004|
|128.||Beloved, Let Us Once More Praise The Rain||1/1/2004|
|130.||Music I Heard||1/1/2004|
|131.||All Lovely Things||1/3/2003|
Comments about Conrad Potter Aiken
While the blue noon above us arches,
And the poplar sheds disconsolate leaves,
Tell me again why love bewitches,
And what love gives.
It is the trembling finger that traces
The eyebrow’s curve, the curve of the cheek?
The mouth that quivers, when the hand caresses,
But cannot speak?
No, not these, not in these is hidden
The secret, more than in other things:
Not only the touch of a hand can gladden
Till the blood sings.
It is the leaf that falls between us,
The bells that murmur, the shadows that move,
The autumnal sunlight that fades upon ...
Southeast, and storm, and every weather vane
shivers and moans upon its dripping pin,
ragged on chimneys the cloud whips, the rain
howls at the flues and windows to get in,
the golden rooster claps his golden wings
and from the Baptist Chapel shrieks no more,
the golden arrow in the southeast sings
and hears on the roof the Atlantic Ocean roar.
Waves among wires, sea scudding over poles,