To a Poor Old Woman, di William Carlos Williams

Peasant head, by Pieter Brueghel the Elder

William Carlos Williams

To a Poor Old Woman

munching a plum on

the street a paper bag

of them in her hand

They taste good to her

They taste good

to her. They taste

good to her

You can see it by

the way she gives herself

to the one half

sucked out in her hand

Comforted

a solace of ripe plums

seeming to fill the air

They taste good to her

#Activities #AmericanWriters #MoneyAndEconomics #SocialCommentaries

Piaciuto o affrontato da...

Altre opere di William Carlos Williams...

The Late Singer

Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…

The Adoration of the Kings

From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor

Kora in Hell: Improvisations VII

It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...

The Uses of Poetry

I’ve fond anticipation of a day O’erfilled with pure diversion pre… For I must read a lady poesy The while we glide by many a leafy… Hid deep in rushes, where at rando…

Kora in Hell: Improvisations XVII

Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...

First Praise

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…

Postlude

NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,

Thursday

I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—

On a Proposed Trip South

They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…

Muier

Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely

Approach of Winter

The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go

The Great Figure

Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red