This one is one of my favorites because lucky is the man who has a woman that is so much.... and lucky is the woman to have a man that can express his love so well and fully. I like the plain-speaking, the LACK of the need to embroider and tie word-ribbons on the love he feels. It takes a lifetime of knowing and loving someone to get to that point. It's something that has - likely - passed me by at this point.
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Poem in Prose
This poem is for my wife.
I have made it plainly and honestly:
The mark is on it
Like the burl on the knife.
I have not made for praise.
She has no more need for praise
Than summer has
Or the bright days.
In all that becomes a woman
Her words and her ways are beautiful:
Love’s lovely duty,
The well-swept room.
Wherever she is there is sun
And time and a sweet air:
Peace is there,
Work is done.
There are always curtains and flowers
And candles and baked bread
And a cloth spread And a clean house.
Her voice when she sings is a voice
At dawn by the freshening sea
Where the wave leaps in the
Wind and rejoices.
Wherever she is it is now.
It is here where the apples are:
Here in the stars,
In the quick hour.
The greatest and richest good,
My own life to live in,
This she has given me –
If giver could.
Archibald MacLeish - American
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