It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars -- like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant's wife -- among her five children . . . No answer. Pale shadows lie upon the frosted grass. One answer: It is midnight, it is still and it is cold . . . ! White thighs of the sky! a new answer out of the depths of my male belly: In April . . . In April I shall see again -- In April! the round and perfect thighs of the Police Sergeant's wife perfect still after many babies. Oya! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A FRIEND by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS FRIENDS BEYOND by THOMAS HARDY GARDEN DAYS: 2. NEST EGGS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IDYLLS OF THE KING: GERAINT AND ENID by ALFRED TENNYSON OUT FROM BEHIND THIS MASK by WALT WHITMAN WHEN THE FOLKS COME ALONG by FREDERICK L. ALLEN |