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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SUNDAY MORNING, by NATHALIA CRANE First Line: God, on a sunday morning Last Line: Making the adults rage. | |||
God, on a Sunday morning, Sits in his old armchair Comforting May Madonna -- Slip-heel who fell the stair. God, on a Sunday morning, Rabble around his knee, Counting the Yiddish babies, Jouncing the Ebony, Driving the Nordic cross-eyed Over the bark-skinned bow, Telling a saffron silly Something she yearned to know. Teaching the Chinese cherubs Little slow-motion jigs, Cannibal babes to nibble Nothing but sugared figs, Waving the popcorn scepter, Tossing the tamarind, Hiding his bags of thunder Under the rain and wind. God, on a Sunday morning, Reaching the dotage stage, Tearing up all the blacklists -- Making the adults rage. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BERKLEY COMMON by NATHALIA CRANE CASTLE 'BILL' by NATHALIA CRANE CASTLE WILLIAM by NATHALIA CRANE |
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