I shall be loved as quiet things
Are loved--white pigeons in the sun,
Curled yellow leaves that whisper down
One after one;
The silver reticence of smoke
That tells no secret of its birth
Among the fiery agonies
That turn the earth;
Cloud-islands; reaching arms of trees;
The frayed and eager little moon
That strays unheeded through a high
Blue afternoon.
The thunder of my heart must go
Under the muffling of the dust--
As my gray dress has guarded it
The grasses must;
For it has hammered loud enough,
Clamored enough, when all is said:
Only its quiet part shall live
When I am dead.
A poem about a person unknown who learned to witness the Beauty in her self and her quiet life.
Beautiful poem.... As endeavor to make our mark on the Sands we shall be loved like the quiet things and remembered after we are gone
Marvelous poem. When all is said only it's quiet part shall live.....
A marvelous poem, loveliest rendered. So lyrical and lovely.
A wonderful poem so beautifully crafted and executed. A poetic gem.
that's the best way to be loved. very well stressed