Randall Jarrell Poems
|2.||A Camp In The Prussian Forest||4/14/2010|
|3.||A Country Life||1/13/2003|
|4.||A Man Meets A Woman In The Street||4/14/2010|
|5.||A Sick Child||1/13/2003|
|6.||Children Selecting Books In A Library||1/13/2003|
|8.||Eighth Air Force||1/13/2003|
|15.||Seele Im Raum||4/14/2010|
|16.||The Black Swan||1/13/2003|
|17.||The Breath Of Night||1/13/2003|
|18.||The Bronze David of Donatello||9/30/2015|
|19.||The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner||1/20/2003|
|20.||The Elementary Scene||1/13/2003|
|21.||The House In The Woods||1/13/2003|
|22.||The Lost World||2/9/2015|
|23.||The Old And The New Masters||1/13/2003|
|24.||The Olive Garden||1/13/2003|
|25.||The Orient Express||1/13/2003|
|26.||The Player Piano||1/13/2003|
|28.||The Woman At The Washington Zoo||1/13/2003|
Comments about Randall Jarrell
The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
The Black Swan
When the swans turned my sister into a swan
I would go to the lake, at night, from milking:
The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan,
A swan's red beak; and the beak would open
And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon.
Out on the lake, a girl would laugh.
"Sister, here is your porridge, sister,"
I would call; and the reeds would whisper,