Night fell one year ago, like this.
He had been writing steadily.
Among these dusky walls of books,
How bright he looked, intense as flame!
Suddenly he paused,
The firelight in his hair,
And said, “The time has come to go.”
I took his hand;
We watched the logs burn out;
poem index
occasions
- Anniversary
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themes
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forms
- Abecedarian
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schools & movements
- Nuyorican Poetry
- Objectivists
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- Poets of Exile
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- Modernismo
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- Confessional Poetry
- Contemporary
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- Dark Room Collective
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- Augustan
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- Harlem Renaissance
- Imagism
- Jazz Poetry
- Kanaka Maoli poetry
- Futurism
- Fugitives
- Poets of World War I
- Flarf
- Formalism
- Acmeism
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related poems
- Morning Song by Sara Teasdale
- At the Last by Witter Bynner
- Song by John Rollin Ridge
- Song by John Rollin Ridge
- Modern Love: IV by George Meredith
About this Poem
“From the Telephone” was published in Poetry: A Magazine of Verse in August 1922.
From the Telephone
Out of the dark cup
Your voice broke like a flower.
It trembled, swaying on its taut stem.
The caress in its touch
Made my eyes close.
This poem is in the public domain.
This poem is in the public domain.
by this poet
poem
1918
poem
1918
Moth Moon, a-flutter in the lilac tree,
With pollen of the white stars on thy wings,
Oh! would I shared thy flight, thy fantasy,
The aimless beauty of thy brightenings!
A worker, wed to Purpose and Things,
Earth-worn I turn from Day’s sufficiency.
One lethéd hour that duty never brings
poem
1918
The gray path glided before me
Through cool, green shadows;
Little leaves hung in the soft air
Like drowsy moths;
A group of dark trees, gravely conferring,
Made me conscious of the gaucherie of sound;
Farther on, a slim lilac
Drew me down to her on the warm grass.
“How sweet