Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

I send sprays

to you

of the tear-new springtime

lime-wet fog-rime

I send days

to you.

I send hours

to you

hard-fingered, dark-lined,

glow-burned, mind-mined

in care of craft

I send ours

to you.

I send these

to you:

Donne-work, Yeats-youth,

Blake-eyes, Hopkins-tooth,

brush-stroke and axe-haft

I send keys

to you.

I send no more

to you.

Cold looks, closed gates,

full houses, questioning fates

sing where we laughed,

I send the score

to you.

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