Elinor Morton Wylie
Now Let No Charitable Hope
Poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Now let no charitable hope
Confuse my mind with images
Of eagle and of antelope:
I am by nature none of these.
I was, being human, born alone;
I am, being woman, hard beset;
I live by squeezing from a stone
What little nourishment I get.
In masks outrageous and austere
The years go by in single file;
But none has merited my fear,
And none has quite escaped my smile.
Comments about Now Let No Charitable Hope by Elinor Morton Wylie
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.