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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OUT OF SUPERSTITION, by BORIS LEONIDOVICH PASTERNAK Poem Explanation Poet's Biography
First Line: The cubbyhole I live in is a box
First Line: The cubbyhole I live in is a box
The cubbyhole I lie in is a box
Of candied orange-peel.
Soiled by hotel rooms till I reach the morgue
That's not for me, I feel.
Out of pure superstition I have come
And settled here once more.
The wallpaper is brown as any oak,
And there's a singing door.
I kept one hand upon the latch, you tried
To fight free of the nets,
And forelock touched enchanted forelock, and
Then lips touched violets.
O softy, in the name of times long gone,
You play the old encore:
Your costume like a primrose chirps "hello"
To April as before.
It's wrong to think-you are no Vestal: you
Brought in a chair one day,
Stood on it, took my life down from the shelf
And blew the dust away.
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