The Things, Donald Hall

THE THINGS By Donald Hall • • • • When I walk in my house I see pictures,bought long ago, framed and hanging—de Kooning, Arp, Laurencin, Henry Moore—that I’ve cherished and stared at for years,yet my eyes keep returning to the mastersof the trivial: a white stone perfectly round,tiny lead models of baseball players, a […]

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In the Summer Kitchen, Donald Hall

In June’s high light she stood at the sink With a glass of wine, And listened for the bobolink, And crushed garlic in late sunshine. I watched her cooking, from my chair. She pressed her lips Together, reached for kitchenware, And tasted sauce from her fingertips. “It’s ready now. Come on,” she said. “You light […]

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The Ox Cart Man by Donald Hall

Ox Cart Man Donald Hall In October of the year, he counts potatoes dug from the brown field, counting the seed, counting the cellar’s portion out, and bags the rest on the cart’s floor. He packs wool sheared in April, honey in combs, linen, leather tanned from deerhide, and vinegar in a barrel hoped by […]

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Ode by Arthur O’Shaughnessy

WE are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers, 5 On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems. With wonderful deathless ditties We build up the world’s great cities, […]

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