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Richard Willbur

Nia Sierra-Davidson

on 4 May 2010

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Transcript of English

"No Poetry can have any strength unless it continually bashes itself aganist the reality of things" Richard Willbur
1921- March 1,1921, New York City U.S. Poet Laureate "The Beautiful Changes and other Peoms" One wading a fall meadow finds on all sides
The Queen Anne’s lace lying like lilies
On the water; it glides
So form the walker, it turns
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you
Valleys my mind in fabulous Blue Lucernes.

The Beautiful changes as a forest is changed
By a chameleon’s turning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
on a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

Your Hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours: the beautiful changes
In such ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and tings’ selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.
Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In the dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashing and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figured with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a god-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to Paradise

The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die .
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop form one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For a child at the bright plane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear Boy at the Window Gnashing Bitumen Genuis 3:22-24 Genuis 3 : 22-24
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