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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HER HANDS, by ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE Poet's Biography
First Line: My hands were loved of many, when I was young
Last Line: My hands -- that are so terrible, so lonely?
Alternate Author Name(s): Knish, Anne
Subject(s): Hands
First Line: My hands were loved of many, when I was young
Last Line: My hands -- that are so terrible, so lonely?
Alternate Author Name(s): Knish, Anne
Subject(s): Hands
My hands were loved of many, when I was young --
Not for the beauty of the flesh alone --
But, like a harp whose quivering strings had sung
A music that at last became its own,
Their slenderness was eloquent of blood
Seeking a joy not ever manifest.
My lips and eyes never betrayed my mood
As they did. And my lovers from my breast
Sometimes have turned to kiss these hands again
That were to me a perfidy and no prize.
Is happiness so small a thing --? and pain
So great a splendor to a lover's eyes? --
Could they not love my joyousness, but only
My hands -- that are so terrible, so lonely?
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