Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HOUSE OF CLAY, by BYRON HERBERT REECE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HOUSE OF CLAY, by                    
First Line: This house of clay I call my body stands
Last Line: And quietly draw the blinds and bolt the door.
Subject(s): Bodies


This house of clay I call my body stands
Too near the road where travelers pass and call
For bread and meat, and eat with greedy hands
Till they are full and I have none at all.
And many times when evening shadows fall
They come unasked and will not be denied
Their sleep; so I must give them room and hall
And go myself and sleep on the outside.
A house divided shall not stand, they say,
So how shall this, my house, fall not asunder
That keeps beneath its roof the priest and whore?
I think that I shall enter it some day
And sweep it clean of its dejected plunder
And quietly draw the blinds and bolt the door.





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