Elinor Wylie

POETRY: Twelfth Night by Elinor Wylie

January 5, 2019

It has always been King Herod that I feared; King Herod and his kinsmen, ever since… I do not like the color of your beard; I think that you are wicked, and a prince. I keep no stable…how your horses stamp!… If you are wise men, you will leave me soon; I have been frightened by a thievish tramp Who counted bloody silver in the moon. You get no lodging underneath these roofs, No, though you pay in frankincense and myrrh; Your harness jangles with your horses’ hooves; Be quiet; you will wake him if you stir. This is no church for Zoroastrians, Nor resting-place for governors from Rome; Oh, I have knowledge of your secret plans; Your faces are familiar; go home. And you, young captain of the lion stare, Subdue your arrogance to [...]

POETRY: Hanging On Hope, or not — Poems on Hope

March 5, 2014

Let No Charitable Hope Elinor Wylie Now let no charitable hope Confuse my mind with images Of eagle and of antelope: I am in nature none of these. I was, being human, born alone; I am, being woman, hard beset; I live by squeezing from a stone The little nourishment I get. In masks outrageous and austere The years go by in single file; But none has merited my fear, And none has quite escaped my smile. Hope Gary Soto Maybe a dog I loved best will limp Up the street and fall at my feet, Not really hurt, just tired. “Smoky,” I cry, and in crying send the sparrows In the tree a limb higher. “I missed you, I really missed you. Where did you go?” I peel back his eyelids and view An adventure—oh, how he dodged cars And [...]