Since the earliest days I have dressed myself In fanciful clothes; Trying to satisfy a whispering insistence. There was so much I dared not give To speech or act; So I put romance and fantasy Into my raiment. In that dreamy girlhood My clothes were like my thoughts; Vague and sentimental. They were of misty greens And faded lavenders; Like cloudy colors in entangled woods, Like the budding thoughts of a young girl. Later on when womanhood came, And Motherhood sat consciously on me, I essayed the dignified and noble In a trailing gown of gray. But Spring came, And with it a dress of juicy green And tricky yellows, With darts of black, Like bare twigs showing through bright leaves. After a while I revelled in the sophistication Of a gown of black; Cut low, swirling in worldly curves. And once I dared the long line of the siren In a gown of weird brocade. But these things have not silenced the whispers. Something urgent wants a tongue. My clothes are not me, myself; Something real escapes in the translation of color and fabric. I think I should go naked into the streets, And wander unclothed into people's parlors. The incredulous eyes of the bewildered world Might give me back my true image. . . . Maybe in the glances of others I would find out what I really am. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESCUE by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1720 by JONATHAN SWIFT AN AUTUMN NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS EARLY DEATH AND FAME by MATTHEW ARNOLD EPISTLE TO JOHN WILLIAMSON by JOHN BRECKENRIDGE EPISTOLA AD DAKYNS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ON THE EPICUREAN, STOIC, AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY by JOHN BYROM |