Wednesday, May 15, 2024



Praise Is Traditional and Appropriate

I loved the wood because I found in it

Mushrooms, berries, beetles, birds and other words,

Hedgehogs, squirrels, memories, quarrels,

        and the damp smell

Of dead leaves, and former lives.

            I reached the first barn

— where wheat was stored—halfway up the slope

            of the ravine

And saw her dancing, glancing twinkly eyes

Full of the hope and love which all thought mean,

And slate-green, slate-blue, blue or black like the sunrise

Skies, and in their variety and in their sheen

I thought that she was looking down at me

As if she understood past, present, and futurity.


The Collected Poems of Delmore Schwartz

edited by Ben Mazer

Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 2024

one of the posthumously published poems