fileg (fileg) wrote,

National Poetry Month - Margaret Widdemer

more of the poems I loved when I was young, and scribbled into old journals over and over. The first may surprise you...

2 from Margaret Widdemer

The Grey Magician from
The Old Road to Paradise
Poems by Margaret Widdemer


I was living very merrily on Middle Earth
As merry as a maid may be
Till the Gray Magician came down along the road
And flung his cobweb cloak on me:

His cobweb cloak of gray brushed my eyes and my ears
And all the curtained air was thinned,
And I came to the sight of the quiet Other People
Who live in the water and the wind:

And I cannot go abroad to gather up the faggots,
Singing to the honest air
Because of the fingers of the brown wood-women
Catching at my blowing hair:

And I cannot sit at home and be quiet at my spinning,
Singing to the thread I spin,
Because of the crying of the green sea-women
Beneath my sill to be let in:

And I wish the Gray Magician had been swung to an oak
Or drowned in the deep green sea
Before he brushed my face with his cobweb cloak
And stole the Middle Earth from me!


Red Fox Running

Thick wood at sky-edge, scalloped on the black,
A low-roofed house with snow along its fields,
Night and a small low moon; a silver plaque,
This is all new: no country that I know;
And yet I know it all. I have come back...

There ought to be a little red fox running
Across the snow.

Some girl behind me in the string of years,
Of centuries, rubbed smooth and black by time,
Stood by her window shutting down her tears
Or pushing down the horror of some crime
By staring at a field, a moon hung low,
and dully noticing... a red fox running
On his small errand, quick across the snow.

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