Orpheus - Poem by Nina Kossman
He sings his way up to being,
quietly, with unhurried breath,
as though words were a blossomed staircase
leading to a perfect sky
where kind-eyed gods themselves,
with slow, sinuous movements,
and ancient, immaculate hands
would greet him kindly: 'Friend! '
As though the net to catch human souls
was masterfully spun of poetry,
of nothing but the sound of words,
not even the shape... the color.
Where are now the moonlit woods
that stood up darkly and strictly
in the soft thick mist of his longing,
now that he has lost his Eurydice
and walked back through the silent earth?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye