As a child I could not run care-free On the path Between the hollyhock rows Until I had dusted chairs And an old walnut highboy. I was given clouds Of pink and blue cheese-cloth To hem for dusters. I have spent more hours with dust Than with dawns or dreams. Dust has even come between me and the stars. In that clean orderly city on the hill There is dust; Alabaster, Mother-of-pearl, Ebon boxes of dust. * * * * * Flowers grow out of dust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DE RERUM NATURA: BOOK 3. AGAINST THE FEAR OF DEATH by TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS TO MRS -- RETURNING FINE HYACINTH PLANT AFTER BLOOM IS OVER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 5 by GEORGE BARKER A MOTH FOUND ON THE FLOOR by EDNA M. BECKER |