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women poets


Here in the stern dark house Of loam, the trees stretch boughs Of roots that hunger downward, roots that keep A pact with silence, a covenant with sleep. Under the leaf mould, under The intricate small wonder Of fern and blossom, the roots go down to [...]


Wildly dissimilar
yet actuated by the same fear,
the hippopotamus and the wild-deer
hide by the same river.


Now let the cycle sweep us here and there,
we will not struggle;
under a forest-ledge,
a wild white-pear
will blossom;