Genevieve Taggard Poems

Up that thin river, going over sand–
Down that deep river, purple to the sun;
My fingers fire; cool your quiet hand,
...

Noiselessly the planets will blow by,
Like smoke, like breath, like driven snow;
Frost-bitten suns on on, on on will blow;
...

You are no more, but sunken in a sea
Sheer into dream, ten thousand leagues, you fell;
And now you lie green-golden, while a bell
...

How tender-mad the little meadows lie!
The wobbling lambs are tasting milky weeds,
The tipsy trees
...

What time is it?
Midnight and very dark.
Are you afraid?
No. Are you?
...

Only to tell your loveliness–this love:
Only to tell
Pain's odor, beauty-burning miracle
Of my surrender!
...

Never heard happier laughter.
Where did you hear it?
Somwhere in the future.
Very far in the future?
...

What husks of last year's winter close you in,
To-morrow's world–what dead, what wrinkled skin
...

If you will poise your forefoot in my pool,
I will not loose a ripple, Beautiful.
Crackle the fern-stems, arch aloft and stare,
...

Fearful of beauty, I always went
Timidly indifferent:

Dainty, hesitant, taking in
...