“The Always Green…” 11:11

“He who does not imagine in stronger and better lineaments, and in stronger and better light than his perishing mortal eye can see, does not imagine at all.” —William Blake A Candle for the Night By Roger Hecht In black and green and white one candle burns Upon some pages, under a lute that leans Against a wall. Outside the window pine Branches hang descending where dark turns In unstarred blackness, though nearby, we know, Ripe figs demand tongue, the ready wine Floats in a bottle, and the salad greens Slowly towards perfection as the night, Outside and near, ascends the shores of light, Faraway, that bear all greens that grow. The lute will thrum, the pine will drop and drip A heavy liquid on the needled ground, And we will eat too much. How each exceeds Nature’s excess closes the dry mouth-tip Of one who’d share available ideals. The country’s Italy: the olive needs Much water to show silver leaves. No sound Or act disturbs the growing beautiful. This green Needs care or vision to be seen In New York City where green dries and peels. So sight betrays whatever’s overdone By being seen too thoroughly: so touch Upon the lute, or reading a stray page Underneath the candle. But everyone, Dear Enid and Isaih, has been seen In flowering excess that will engage More than the reasonable, the overmuch, That’s natural as black and green and white Lute and pages. A candle for the night Asserts the hope of day, the always green. PARIS POETRY REVIEW From issue no. 14 (Autumn 1956)

EAT WHOLE, EAT WELL 

SALMON & EGGS 

TASTY TOAST 

AWESOME HOSPITALITY! 

#Toscanoes

 

SIMPLE COMMON 

ORDINARY EVERYWHERE