Tho' my errors and wrecks lie about me
And I am not a demigod,
I cannot make it cohere.
If love is not in the house there is nothing
The voice of famine unheard,
How came beauty against this blackness,
Twice beauty under the elms --
To be saved by squirrels and blue jays!
Linda's Hearth note: I have loved this poem since I first saw it, had it posted above my desk on the blinds, when we lived at Barson St and Canfield Ave, Santa Cruz "Surf City", California. Posting it "centered", takes something away from the original scripting: it was flush left, with the first and last line indented 5 spaces.