William Logan
CHAMBER MUSIC
The world of physical objects cannot stain
the minor texts our summer nights applaud:
the firefly's careless shimmer, its Morse Code
of syntax correcting Keats' ode
To Autumn's
now tubercular refrain:
There is no mercy where there is no
God.
When Dachau's Jews and whores were sacrificed
to Christian sacraments, no Savior dawned
like a black sun on the Black Sea: the wine
of old communion kept the dead
in
line.
The weak fish grappled in the claws of Christ,
the osprey turning from His shattered pond.
We have our music too.
It
substitutes
the flames ofWagner for a string quartet.
The violinist lifts his bow, and with a nod
the gray conductor lifts the hand of God
and dips his black baton. A barren flute
take eighth notes from the rage of sunset.
Sophie Cabot Black
THE MISUNDERSTANDING OF NATURE
I cannot stop watching her and thinking
Of ways to follow. Against the windows
Her urgent spring buds strangle,
