II

Take from me the little flowers

And the bright-eyed beasts and the birds;

And the babies, oh God, take away;

Hearken my praying-words;

Empty my road of them,

Empty my house and my arm,

For black is my heart with hate,

And I would not these come to harm.

A Cluster of Grapes A Book of Twentieth Century Poetry · 第 69 / 119 题