Phyllis McGinley Poems

In spring when maple buds are red,
We turn the clock an hour ahead;
Which means, each April that arrives,
We lose an hour out of our lives.
...

Where are the ribbons I tie my hair with?
Where is my lipstick? Where are my hose -
The sheer ones hoarded these weeks to wear with
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his paper propped against the electric toaster
(nicely adjusted to his morning use),
Daniel at breakfast studies world disaster
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I wish I owned a Dior dress
Made to my order out of satin.
I wish I weighed a little less
And could read Latin.
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She said, If tomorrow my world were torn in two,
Blacked out, dissolved, I think I would remember
(As if transfixed in unsurrendering amber)
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The first thing to remember about fathers is, they're men.
A girl has to keep it in mind.
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The other day I chanced to meet
An angry man upon the street —
A man of wrath, a man of war,
A man who truculently bore
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Intimations of Mortality
on being told by the dentist that this will be over soon
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Summer, adieu
Adieu gregarious season.
Goodbye, 'revoir, farewell.
Now day comes late; now chillier blows the breeze on
...