poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

About this Poem 

“The Circle” was originally published in Curtains (John Lane Company, 1921).

The Circle

Dreams—and an old, old waking,
An unspent vision gone;
Night, clean with silence, breaking
Into loud dawn.
 
A wonder that is blurring
The new day’s strange demands,
The indomitable stirring
Of folded hands.
 
Then only the hours’ pageant
And the drowsing sound of their creep,
Bringing at last the vagrant
Dreams of new sleep.
 

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Hazel Hall

Hazel Hall

Hazel Hall was born in Saint Paul, Minnesota, in 1886. She published three books of poetry during her career: Curtains, Walkers, and Cry of Time. She was much-loved in her lifelong home state of Oregon; the Oregon Book Award is named jointly for Hall and poet William Stafford. Hall died in Portland, Oregon, in 1924. 

by this poet

poem

I have known hours built like cities,
House on grey house, with streets between
That lead to straggling roads and trail off,
Forgotten in a field of green;

Hours made like mountains lifting
White crests out of the fog and rain,
And woven of forbidden music—
Hours eternal in their

poem

Last night when my work was done,
And my estranged hands
Were becoming mutually interested
In such forgotten things as pulses,
I looked out of a window
Into a glittering night sky.

And instantly
I began to feather-stitch a ring around the moon.

poem
I am less of myself and more of the sun;
The beat of life is wearing me
To an incomplete oblivion,
Yet not to the certain dignity
Of death. They cannot even die
Who have not lived.

                                The hungry jaws
Of space snap at my unlearned eye,
And time tears in my flesh like claws.