Saturday, October 15, 2011

October / Elinor Wylie


Beauty has a tarnished dress,
And a patchwork cloak of cloth
Dipped deep in mournfulness,
Striped like a moth.

Wet grass where it trails
Dyes it green along the hem;
She has seven silver veils
With cracked bells on them.

She is tired of all these --
Grey gauze, translucent lawn;
The broad cloak of Herakles.
Is tangled flame and fawn.

Water and light are wearing thin:
She has drawn above her head
The warm enormous lion skin
Rough red and gold.

Elinor Wylie (1885-1928}

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the European Union]

Elinor Wylie biography by George Dance

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