Gwendolyn Brooks Quotes

Her fortune, too, lies there, Converted into cool hard steel And right red velvet lining; While over her tan impassivity Shot silk is shining.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Southeast corner."
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If Mary came would Mary Forgive, as Mothers may, And sad and second Saviour Furnish us today?
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "A Penitent Considers Another Coming of Mary."
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There is spiritual laughter Too hushed to be gay, too high: the happiness Of angels.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Spaulding and Francois."
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We want nights Of vague adventure, lips lax wet and warm, Bees in the stomach, sweat across the brow. Now.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Appendix to the Anniad."
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But the People Will not let us alone; will not credit, condone Art-loves that shun Them (moderate Christians rotting in the sun.)
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Spaulding and Francois."
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Some day the war will end, but, oh, I knew When he went walking grandly out that door That my sweet love would have to be untrue.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Appendix to the Anniad."
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Each body has its art, its precious prescribed Pose, that even in passion's droll contortions, waltzes, Or push of pain or when a grief has stabbed, Or hatred hacked is its, and nothing else's.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Still do I keep my look, my identity . . ....."
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Oh mother, mother, where is happiness? They took my lover's tallness off to war. Left me lamenting.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Appendix to the Anniad."
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Shows the old personal art, the look. Shows what It showed at baseball. What it showed in school.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Still do I keep my look, my identity . . ....."
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The intellectual damn Will nurse your half-hurt. Quickly you are well.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Appendix to the Anniad."
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