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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MY HANDS HAVE TOUCHED THE SKIES, by IDA ELAINE JAMES
First Line: Within this wood, grown crystal-white and clear
Last Line: At one with peace man has not dared lay waste.
Subject(s): Sky; Sonnet (as Literary Form)
First Line: Within this wood, grown crystal-white and clear
Last Line: At one with peace man has not dared lay waste.
Subject(s): Sky; Sonnet (as Literary Form)
Within this wood, grown crystal-white and clear,
Where winter tree-trunks form a shadowy aisle,
I pause, yet speak no word, lest sound defile
The blue-white nudity that lifts austere
Unhurried limbs from root to sky. How dear
Is silence, pale and beautiful the while
Impatient mortals sick with pain and guile
Give to their audible grief the piteous tear.
Now quiet, like a tree, I hush the moan
Beneath my heart. My hands have touched the skies,
The tall infinities. I walk these chaste
Snow-laden paths, my sorrow stilled, alone,
Amid white sanctuaries, growing wise,
At one with peace man has not dared lay waste.
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ON A MAGAZINE SONNET by RUSSELL HILLARD LOINES
THE HOUSE OF LIFE: THE SONNET (INTRODUCTION) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI
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