Robert Richman
LOVE IS NOT LOVE IS
Unlike the New York cemeteries
Where each holds narrow dead
In dark apartments of neglected death-
0 when the whole world tries
But
is
unloved still- the
ill
world
More
ill
now fouls
all
breath.
All know love
is
no New England village
Today. No, nor church white;
Nor Calvin-green the streets, the tidy groves
Where pure singing larks bite
At grosbeaks in the larch.
And the dark lawns have neglected the graves.
Unlike seventeen homes in Hadley
Where each holds narrow loves,
Love is more the sin within wanting out
To scheme other agonies,
Making habit of the sheets of love.
"Scared Knox," Johnathan shouts,
"Is in hell with God"; lonely echoes weep
As
tears freeze in his eyes.
Love is more the red bats of hell he sees
Fly to the overwhelming sky.
Love's not the rains one counts
That lay the dust of fire the day love is.
Unlike those who kneel and fear, love
Unlocked my narrow eyes:
972
