Your Eyes Must Turn To Watch It Go

Louise Bogan (1897 – 1970)

I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy.

Louise Bogan

Portrait

By Louise Bogan 
 
She has no need to fear the fall
Of harvest from the laddered reach
Of orchards, nor the tide gone ebbing
      From the steep beach.
 
Nor hold to pain’s effrontery
Her body’s bulwark, stern and savage,
Nor be a glass, where to forsee
      Another’s ravage.
 
What she has gathered, and what lost,
She will not find to lose again.
She is possessed by time, who once
      Was loved by men.
 
 
 

Sonnet

By Louise Bogan 
 
Since you would claim the sources of my thought
Recall the meshes whence it sprang unlimed,
The reedy traps which other hands have timed
To close upon it. Conjure up the hot
Blaze that it cleared so cleanly, or the snow
Devised to strike it down. It will be free.
Whatever nets draw in to prison me
At length your eyes must turn to watch it go.
 
My mouth, perhaps, may learn one thing too well,
My body hear no echo save its own,
Yet will the desperate mind, maddened and proud,
Seek out the storm, escape the bitter spell
That we obey, strain to the wind, be thrown
Straight to its freedom in the thunderous cloud