Hazel Hall Poems

I have known hours built like cities,
House on grey house, with streets between
That lead to straggling roads and trail off,
...

Three school-girls pass this way each day:
Two of them go in the fluttery way
Of girls, with all that girlhood buys;
...

Beauty streamed into my hand
In sunlight through a pane of glass;
Now at last I understand
Why suns must pass.
...

I was sewing a seam one day.
Just this way—
Flashing four silver stitches there
With thread, like this, fine as a hair,
...

It is made of finest linen—
Sheer as wasp-wings;
It is made with a flowing panel
Down the front,
...

A footstep sounded from the street...
Listening, I knew of you!
With the good singing of your feet
You came in, too.
...

Many sewing days ago
I cross-stitched on a black satin bag
Two listening macaws.
...

Women who sing themselves to sleep
Lie with their hands at rest,
Locked over them night-long as though to keep
Music against their breast.
...

I am holding up a mirror
to look at life; in my hand-glass
I see a strange, hushed street below me
Where people pass.
...

I like things with roots that know the earth,
Trees whose feet, nimble and brown,
Wander around in the house of their birth
...