HERE is a face that says half-past seven the same way whether a murder or a wedding goes on, whether a funeral or a picnic crowd passes. A tall one I know at the end of a hallway broods in shadows and is watching booze eat out the insides of the man of the house; it has seen five hopes go in five years: one woman, one child, and three dreams. A little one carried in a leather box by an actress rides with her to hotels and is under her pillow in a sleeping-car between one-night stands. One hoists a phiz over a railroad station; it points numbers to people a quarter-mile away who believe it when other clocks fail. And of course ... there are wrist watches over the pulses of airmen eager to go to France... | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUNTAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH CLEAR AND COLDER; BOSTON COMMON by ROBERT FROST DIVIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MIDDLETON PLACE by AMY LOWELL WAITING IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL by CLARENCE MAJOR |