It was born in perhaps the Holland Tunnel, And in New Jersey opened up its eyes, Discovered its hands in Pennsylvania and Later the night came. The moon burned brighter than the dreams of lechers -- Still, they made love halfway to Pittsburgh, Disturbing the passengers and sometimes themselves. Her laughter gamboled in the bus like kittens: He kissed with his cap on, maybe had no hair. I kept remembering them even beyond Chicago Where everyone discovered a personal direction. She went to Omaha; he went south; and I, Having nothing better, was thinking of chance -- Which has its mouth open in perpetual surprise -- And love. For even though she was a whore And he a poor devil wearing built-up heels, Still, love has light which like an early lamp Or Hesperus, that star, to the simplest object Lends a magnificent impersonal radiance, Human, impermanent and permanently good. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNT THAT DAY LOST by MARY ANN EVANS ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS: PART 2: 25. THE VIRGIN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ELEGIAC STANZAS SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE COLLEGE, 1917 by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG THE SHEEPHERD by JOSEPH BEAUMONT MY JEWEL CASE by BESSE BURNETT BELL THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ANTARA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |