Archive for August 4th, 2021

Wednesday, 4 August 2021

Edges by John Orley Allen Tate

I’ve often wondered why she laughed
On thinking why I wondered so;
It seemed such waste that long white hands
Should touch my hands and let them go.

And once when we were parting there,
Unseen of anything but trees,
I touched her fingers, thoughtfully,
For more than simple niceties.

But for some futile things unsaid
I should say all is done for us;
Yet I have wondered how she smiled
Beholding what was cavernous.


Date: 1922

By: John Orley Allen Tate (1899-1979)