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
The Wind is sewing with needles of rain.
With shining needles of rain
It stitches into the thin
Cloth of earth. In,
In, in, in.
Oh, the wind has often sewed with me.
One, two, three.

Spring must have fine things
To wear like other springs.
Of silken green the grass must be
Embroidered. One and two and
poem

Here are old things:
Fraying edges,
Ravelling threads;
And here are scraps of new goods,
Needles and thread,
An expectant thimble,
A pair of silver-toothed scissors.
Thimble on a finger,
New thread through an eye;
Needle, do not linger,
Hurry as you ply.
If you

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.