Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HAND, by MARY BRODINE First Line: Resistless to the lowest task Last Line: That out of chaos called the world. Subject(s): Hands | ||||||||
Resistless to the lowest task, A self-solution at the last Fulfills thy little service, hand. Regret no segment's single line; These curling fingers, like the vine, Must yield their fruited requisite, To sweep, to serve, displace, bestow; Proportionate thy strength shall grow Until the measure is complete. And that's divine, the measure set Whereof, amorphous, we beget A shapeliness, emergent form Too bright for definition; trust, It is like sun upon the dust, That gathers light from every mote. No futile labor blindly do; Hand, a spirit works in you That out of chaos called the world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FATHER, MY HANDS by RICHARD BLANCO MY MOTHER'S HANDS by ANDREW HUDGINS I WAS BORN WITH TWELVE FINGERS by LUCILLE CLIFTON TEN OXHERDING PICTURES: A MEDITATION by LUCILLE CLIFTON FIFTH GRADE AUTOBIOGRAPHY by RITA DOVE THE TYPICAL HAND by ELENI SIKELIANOS THE CARPENTER by PRIMUS ST. JOHN |
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