By Annie Finch
Sir, I am not a bird of prey:
a Lady does not seize the day.
I trust that brief Time will unfold
our youth, before he makes us old.
How could we two write lines of rhyme
were we not fond of numbered Time
and grateful to the vast and sweet
trials his days will make us meet?
The Grave’s not just the body’s curse;
no skeleton can pen a verse!
So while this numbered World we see,
let’s sweeten Time with poetry,
and Time, in turn, may sweeten Love
and give us time our love to prove.
You’ve praised my eyes, forehead, breast:
you’ve all our lives to praise the rest.
Reprinted with permission of the author and Story Line Press (www.storylinepress.com).
Source: Eve (Story Line Press, 1997)
Annie Finch is the author or editor of more than twenty books of poetry, plays, translation, literary essays, textbooks, and anthologies. Finch holds degrees from Yale University, University of Houston, and Stanford University. She has taught at several universities, most recently the University of Southern Maine where she served for nine years as director of the Stonecoast MFA Program. She lives on the coast of Maine.
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