by Ann Stanford
My house is torn down——
Plaster sifting， the pillars broken，
Beams jagged， the wall crushed by the bulldozer．
The whole roof has fallen
On the hall and the kitchen
The bedrooms， the parlor．
They are trampling the garden——
My mother's lilac， my father's grapevine，
The freesias， the jonquils， the grasses．
Hot asphalt goes down
Over the torn stems， and hardens．
What will they do in springtime
Those bulbs and stems groping upward
That drown in earth under the paving，
Thick with sap， pale in the dark
As they try the unrolling of green．
May they double themselves
Pushing together up to the sunlight，
May they break through the seal stretched above them
Open and flower and cry we are living．
诗歌欣赏：Drinking With Someone In The
As the two of us drink
together， while mountain
flowers blossom beside， we
down one cup after the other
until I am drunk and sleepy
so that you better go！
Tomorrow if you feel like it
do come and bring your lute
along with you！
by Louis Simpson
Trees in the old days used to stand
And shape a shady lane
Where lovers wandered hand in hand
Who came from Carentan．
This was the shining green canal
Where we came two by two
Walking at combat－interval．
Such trees we never knew．
The day was early June， the ground
Was soft and bright with dew．
Far away the guns did sound，
But here the sky was blue．
The sky was blue， but there a smoke
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