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Contemplative, I. L. Salomon, in English Clear filters

ContemplativeI. L. Salomon

Commitment

The incorruptible earth suffers mankind His multiple invasion. She's not concerned How dialectics paralyze his mind, Or how his broken tortured poor, interned Within the concentration camp, can hope; Or who lies shattered on the ugly rack, Or who hangs limp from the impulsive rope, Or who bears crooked crosses on his back. To her who gives life, what increase is given? Yet she, as patient as a mother is Who waits her son's return as he is driven Back to her amplitude of quietness, Takes him to her sweet breast and holds him there Like a tired child who sleeps on unaware.
ContemplativeI. L. Salomon

Richer Loam

Everyman dies every day Impure of heart for purchased gold; Two crusted pennies on his eyes— A smitch of comfort in the cold! And he, imparadised in clay, Yields compost measured to his size, As sudden green outbreaks the mould In rough unhindered enterprise. Belied, the once-wild heart he sold For cumbered coin he can't assay; The trade he staked on loaded dice Flung mortal dreams a world away. Yet from him in his wintering, The tiniest of grasses spring!
ContemplativeI. L. Salomon

New England Spring

Spring never was as chill as it is now. There had been others when a spiky leaf, The hue of apple-green, leaped from the mulch Against the brown impoverished debris, The wind a canticle at earth's renewal. How long ago that was, as if to tease All actuality : for snow has gone, As frost. What keeps is the astringent air, As every mound its gray-beard grass in clumps, Bristling and rough as an old man's chin. To evening sky the evening star returns, Ascends once more to its elliptic node To prink the atmosphere, a frozen gem, Endazzled on the surface where it climbs. New England springs are colder than they were.

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