Youth And Beauty By William Carlos Williams

Youth And Beauty

I bought a dishmop–
having no daughter–
for they had twisted
fine ribbons of shining copper
about white twine
and made a tousled head
of it, fastened it
upon a turned ash stick
slender at the neck
straight, tall–
when tied upright
on the brass wallbracket
to be a light for me
and naked
as a girl should seem
to her father.

Backward

A three-day-long rain from the east–
an terminable talking, talking
of no consequence–patter, patter, patter.
Hand in hand little winds
blow the thin streams aslant.
Warm. Distance cut off. Seclusion.
A few passers-by, drawn in upon themselves,
hurry from one place to another.
Winds of the white poppy! there is no escape!–
An interminable talking, talking,
talking . . .it has happened before.
Backward, backward, backward.

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