PEOPLE - Aemilia Lanyer Poems


Poems » emilia lanyer » people


The great gold apples of night
Hang from the street's long bough
     Dripping their light
On the faces that drift below,
On the faces that drift and blow
Down the night-time, out of sight
     In the wind's sad sough.

The ripeness of these apples of night
Distilling over me
     Makes sickening the white
Ghost-flux of faces that hie
Them endlessly, endlessly by
Without meaning or reason why
     They ever should be.