Louise Gluck
The Wild Iris
At the end of my suffering There was a door. Hear me out: that which you call death I remember. Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting. Then nothing. The weak sun Flickered over
First Memory
Long ago, I was wounded. I lived To revenge myself Against my father, not For what he was For what I was: from the beginning of time, In childhood, I thought That pain meant
Snowdrops
Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know What despair is; then Winter should have meaning for you. I did not expect to survive, Earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect To
Horse
What does the horse give you That I cannot give you? I watch you when you are alone, When you ride into the field behind the dairy, Your hands buried in the mare’s Dark
Happiness
A man and a woman lie on a white bed. It is morning. I think Soon they will waken. On the bedside table is a vase Of lilies; sunlight Pools in their throats. I
Labor Day
Requiring something lovely on his arm Took me to Stamford, Connecticut, a quasi-farm, His family’s; later picking up the mammoth Girlfriend of Charlie, meanwhile trying to pawn me off On some third guy also
Early Darkness
How can you say Earth should give me joy? Each thing Born is my burden; I cannot succeed With all of you. And you would like to dictate to me, You would like to
Circe's Torment
I regret bitterly The years of loving you in both Your presence and absence, regret The law, the vocation That forbid me to keep you, the sea A sheet of glass, the sun-bleached Beauty
Summer
Remember the days of our first happiness, How strong we were, how dazed by passion, Lying all day, then all night in the narrow bed, Sleeping there, eating there too: it was summer, It
Saints
In our family, there were two saints, My aunt and my grandmother. But their lives were different. My grandmother’s was tranquil, even at the end. She was like a person walking in calm water;
The Garden
The garden admires you. For your sake it smears itself with green pigment, The ecstatic reds of the roses, So that you will come to it with your lovers. And the willows See how
The White Lilies
As a man and woman make A garden between them like A bed of stars, here They linger in the summer evening And the evening turns Cold with their terror: it Could all end,
Retreating Wind
When I made you, I loved you. Now I pity you. I gave you all you needed: Bed of earth, blanket of blue air As I get further away from you I see you
All Hallows
Even now this landscape is assembling. The hills darken. The oxen Sleep in their blue yoke, The fields having been Picked clean, the sheaves Bound evenly and piled at the roadside Among cinquefoil, as
Vespers
In your extended absence, you permit me Use of earth, anticipating Some return on investment. I must report Failure in my assignment, principally Regarding the tomato plants. I think I should not be encouraged