Sunday, November 15, 2009

First published on July 3, 2009

Time, I think, for another Milly Jourdain poem. I'm beginning to have some thoughts of approaching a publisher about reprinting Milly's work in book form. But who knows if I'll actually bring myself to take that leap.


Milly Jourdain

There is a finer freshness in the air
When winter days are lengthening and mild,
And notes of birds are still most pure and rare.

The yellow sun is dying in a haze
Of burning light; making the buildings blue,
And through a window by a street I gaze.

I stand no more beneath an open sky.
My life is cramped and hedged around, I see
Its narrowness, and hear the passers-by.

Yet as the window-panes grow dark and blurred,
O give me still a certainty of faith,
To know men's lives are not unseen, unheard.

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