Then, I had no doubt
That snowdrops, violets, all creatures, I myself
Were lovely, were loved, were love.
Look, they said,
And I had only to look deep into the heart,
Dark, deep into the violet, and there read,
Before I knew of any word for flower or love,
The flower, the love, the word.
They never wearied of telling their being; and [...]
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Exile
Posted in Kathleen Raine, Poetry on October 20, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
