Legend

As silent as a mirror is believed
Realities plunge in silence by . . .

I am not ready for repentance;
Nor to match regrets. For the moth
Bends no more than the still
Imploring flame. And tremorous
In the white falling flakes
Kisses are,--
The only worth all granting.

It is to be learned--
This cleaving and this burning,
But only by the one who
Spends out himself again.

Twice and twice
(Again the smoking souvenir,
Bleeding eidolon!) and yet again.
Until the bright logic is won
Unwhispering as a mirror
Is believed.

Then, drop by caustic drop, a perfect cry
Shall string some constant harmony,--
Relentless caper for all those who step
The legend of their youth into the noon.


Anonymous submission.

by Harold Hart Crane

Comments (6)

I have such a weird sense of humor that I laughed my way through most of this political satire- -so rudely true
A surge of indignation rushing over him while narrating a sorry state of affairs of a state.........very well composed thanks for sharing
Such a well-written poem by Richard Wilbur👍👍👍
a poem full of comparisons that are as real today as that of yesterday? wonderful description of nothing actually changes really? ............well panned Richard.
Invasion! ! Cramped! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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