Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONGS OF CREATION, by ZELLA MURIEL WRIGHT



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONGS OF CREATION, by                    
First Line: It is spring!
Last Line: It has always seemed.
Subject(s): Desire; Hearts; Love; Man-woman Relationships; Passion; Spring; Male-female Relations


Printemps:

It is Spring!
The tense earth waits
For the impregnating seed;
The trees droop, caressing the earth;
The plowed fields drink up the rain
With a sucking sound.
The earth yearns for the impregnating seed;
To feel it draw the nourishment
Stored in her veins;
To feel new life
Stirring within her womb.

I have builded a house on the hillside
And the tang of the fresh-sawn pine
Is still in the air;
The fireplace is of lichened, igneous rock,
And the couch is made
Of the fragrant twig of the spruce.

It is Spring
And I have gone away from the abode of men
That I might hear the song of the earth.
All night I lay
With my ear pressed close to the ground
To catch the song.
The quiet moon climbed up across the sky
And glided behind a covert of young pines
Beyond the cabin;
The song of the frog calling his mate
Came up from the glen below;
But the tense earth moves not
And is silent
For her veins are bursting
With the desire for fruitfulness.

The birds will not sing tonight;
Even the trees will not whisper their secret.
I need the note of the violin
To fill in the silence.
You must come with your violin
And pour out a song of passion and tenderness.
Like the hot breath of a lover,
Like his trembling touch,
Your notes will wake the earth
And set her heart to beating
That I may catch the rhythm of it
For my song.

You will not mind if I do not speak to you.
Come silently.
You will find bread and a wedge of cheese
In the cupboard,
And a crock of fresh butter
Under the rock by the spring.
At dusk you will come
And sit in the doorway
While I lie upon the ground
With my ear pressed close
To catch the song of the All-Mother's heart.

Et&233;:

It is good to be loved.
A man waits for me
Who will cover my body with kisses;
He will bury his face in my hair;
He will weep with joy at the touch of me.
It is good to be loved.

I wait for you in the dusk.
How strange you seem tonight!
Your eyes glisten with a burnished light,
Like the eyes of a serpent,
Like the eyes of a god.
Wherever your eyes are turned upon me
My flesh burns
As tho two hot coals were laid upon it;
But I do not move.
Why do you never take your eyes from me?
Why do you tremble and grow so pale,
You who were so radiant and rigid
A moment ago?
You touch me and drop weakly in a heap;
There is no power in your muscles.
But it is only the weakness before madness;
A madness that gives you a ten-fold strength.
For a second I shrink with fear,
Lest in your ferocity, you devour me.
Then I laugh—my whole body laughs;
But I move not.
On my lips there is a faint smile,
Shall I tell you why I smile?

I smile because I am happy;
Because this instant is my instant
In this eternity of eternities.
Tonight I understand that life is not
The groping, broken, half-thing
It has always seemed.





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