Of the Harlem night
Drop one by one into stillness.
The last player-piano is closed.
The last victrola ceases with the
“Jazz Boy Blues.”
The last crying baby sleeps
And the night becomes
Still as a whispering heartbeat.
Without rest in the darkness,
Weary as the tired night,
Empty as the silence,
Empty with a vague,
I toss without rest
In the darkness
Until the new dawn,
Wan and pale,
Descends like a white mist
Into the court-yard.
“This is Just to Say”
William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold
“Summer Night, Riverside”
In the wild soft summer darkness
How many and many a night we two together
Sat in the park and watched the Hudson
Wearing her lights like golden spangles
Glinting on black satin.
The rail along the curving pathway
Was low in a happy place to let us cross,
And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom
While your kisses and the flowers,
Tangled my hair. . . .
The frail white stars moved over the sky.
And now, far off
Into the fragrant darkness
The tree is tremulous again with bloom
For June comes back.
To-night what girl
When she goes home,
Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her hair
This year’s blossoms clinging in its coils?