She Walks in Beauty
Page 1
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
She walks in beauty GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON
INTRODUCTION
FALLING IN LOVE
* * *
A Very Valentine GERTRUDE STEIN
Song JOHN KEATS
I Do Not Love Thee THE HONORABLE CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH NORTON
From Hero and Leander CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
Love’s Philosophy PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
Having a Coke with You FRANK O’HARA
Symptom Recital DOROTHY PARKER
To Aphrodite of the Flowers, at Knossos SAPPHO
Come to the Orchard in Spring RUMI
MAKING LOVE
* * *
Don’t try to rush things—from Poem 41
From From June to December
Wild Nights—Wild Nights! EMILY DICKINSON
may i feel said he E. E. CUMMINGS
When He Pressed His Lips
Corinna’s Going a-Maying ROBERT HERRICK
The Weather-Cock Points South AMY LOWELL
To His Mistress Going to Bed JOHN DONNE
The Song of Solomon 2:1–17, 3:1–5
Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour WALLACE STEVENS
Variation on the Word Sleep MARGARET ATWOOD
After Making Love We Hear Footsteps GALWAY KINNELL
It Is Marvellous . . . ELIZABETH BISHOP
White Heliotrope ARTHUR SYMONS
Youth OSIP MANDELSTAM
BREAKING UP
* * *
Lilacs KATHERINE GARRISON CHAPIN
Unfortunate Coincidence DOROTHY PARKER
The Philosopher EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
From Summer with Monika ROGER McGOUGH
I’m Going to Georgia FOLK SONG
A Type of Loss INGEBORG BACHMANN
On Monsieur’s Departure QUEEN ELIZABETH I
The Eaten Heart—from The Knight of Curtesy
My life closed twice before its close— EMILY DICKINSON
When We Two Parted GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON
Well, I Have Lost You EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII) EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
“No, Thank You, John” CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
when you have forgotten Sunday: the love story GWENDOLYN BROOKS
The End ELIZABETH ALEXANDER
MARRIAGE
* * *
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
Marriage GREGORY CORSO
From The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in E. E. CUMMINGS
To My Dear and Loving Husband ANNE BRADSTREET
To Margo GAVIN EWART
A Word to Husbands OGDEN NASH
To the Ladies LADY MARY CHUDLEIGH
The Female of the Species RUDYARD KIPLING
From Paradise Lost JOHN MILTON
The Good Wife PROVERBS 31:10–31
My Last Duchess ROBERT BROWNING
To Speak of Woe That Is in Marriage ROBERT LOWELL
From a Survivor ADRIENNE RICH
Letter from My Wife NAZIM HIKMET
To Paula in Late Spring W. S. MERWIN
A Farmer’s Calendar VIETNAMESE FOLK POEM
LOVE ITSELF
* * *
A Birthday CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
June Light RICHARD WILBUR
Protocols VIKRAM SETH
Jamesian THOM GUNN
From Proverbs and Song Verse ANTONIO MACHADO
Sonnet XLIII: How Do I Love Thee? ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
XLIV: You must know that I do not love and that I love you PABLO NERUDA
Code Poem for the French Resistance LEO MARKS
The Smaller Orchid AMY CLAMPITT
Sonnet 116 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing RUMI
The Emperor MATTHEW ROHRER
Late Fragment RAYMOND CARVER
From The First Morning of the Second World DELMORE SCHWARTZ
1 Corinthians 13:1–13
WORK
* * *
weaponed woman GWENDOLYN BROOKS
Night Waitress LYNDA HULL
In an Iridescent Time RUTH STONE
Madam and Her Madam LANGSTON HUGHES
Letters from Storyville NATASHA TRETHEWEY
Lineage MARGARET WALKER
I Want You Women Up North to Know TILLIE OLSEN
PS Education ELLEN HAGAN
At the Café PATRICIA KIRKPATRICK
Worked Late on a Tuesday Night DEBORAH GARRISON
The Age of Great Vocations ALANE ROLLINGS
Defining Worlds G. Y. BAXTER
What’s That Smell in the Kitchen? MARGE PIERCY
Father Grumble FOLK SONG
Epitaph ANONYMOUS
BEAUTY, CLOTHES, AND THINGS OF THIS WORLD
* * *
Antony and Cleopatra, II, ii, 191–232 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
What Do Women Want? KIM ADDONIZIO
The Catch RICHARD WILBUR
Cosmetics Do No Good STEVE KOWIT
Face Lift SYLVIA PLATH
Fatigue HILAIRE BELLOC
The Great Lover RUPERT BROOKE
Patterns AMY LOWELL
Crocheted Bag ROSEMARY CATACALOS
Delight in Disorder ROBERT HERRICK
The Rhodora
Roses Only MARIANNE MOORE
Eagle Poem JOY HARJO
MOTHERHOOD
* * *
A Cradle Song W. B. YEATS
Notes from the Delivery Room LINDA PASTAN
Socks SHARON OLDS
High School Senior SHARON OLDS
Nobody Knows But Mother MARY MORRISON
From “Clearances,” In Memoriam M.K.H. (1911–1984) SEAMUS HEANEY
if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have E. E. CUMMINGS
Somebody’s Mother MARY DOW BRINE
The Book of Ruth 1:16–17
The Dream That I Told My Mother-in-Law ELIZABETH ALEXANDER
Mother’s Closet MAXINE SCATES
Ode ELIZABETH ALEXANDER
Vietnam WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA
A Child MARY LAMB
blessing the boats LUCILLE CLIFTON
SILENCE AND SOLITUDE
* * *
I’m happiest when most away EMILY BRONTË
Keeping Things Whole MARK STRAND
We All Know It MARIANNE MOORE
As Much As You Can CONSTANTINE P. CAVAFY
Sense of Something Coming RAINER MARIA RILKE
Death, Etc. MAXINE KUMIN
From When One Has Lived a Long Time Alone GALWAY KINNELL
Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain LI PO
The Poems of Our Climate WALLACE STEVENS
GROWING UP AND GROWING OLD
* * *
You Begin MARGARET ATWOOD
Grown-up EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
Puberty—With Capital Letters ELLEN HAGAN
Bra Shopping PARNESHIA JONES
The Summer Day MARY OLIVER
Living DENISE LEVERTOV
I stepped from plank to plank EMILY DICKINSON
to my last period LUCILLE CLIFTON
lumpectomy eve LUCILLE CLIFTON
Older, Younger, Both JOYCE SUTPHEN
Survivor ROGER McGOUGH
You Can’t Have It All BARBARA RAS
Sign MARGE PIERCY
The Greatest Love ANNA SWIR
Time MARY URSULA BETHELL
Going Blind RAINER MARIA RILKE
Old Woman ELIZABETH JENNINGS
Let It Be Forgotten SARA TEASDALE
Courage ANNE SEXTON
DEATH AND GRIEF
* * *
The Bustle in a House EMILY DICKINSON
Never More Will the Wind H. D.
Grief ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
The Widow’s Lament in Springtime WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
Companion JO McDOUGALL
Remember CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
From To W. P. GEORGE SANTAYANA
To Death OLIVER ST. JOHN GOGARTY
That it is a road ARIWARA NO NARIHARA
From In Memoriam A. H. H. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
Reconciliation WALT WHITMAN
FRIENDSHIP
* * *
A Poem of Friendship NIKKI GIOVANNI
Letter to N.Y. ELIZABETH BISHOP
On Gifts for Grace BERNADETTE MAYER
Love ROY CROFT
To Hayley WILLIAM BLAKE
A Poison Tree WILLIAM BLAKE
August LOUISE GLÜCK
Summer at the Beach LOUISE GLÜCK
Girlfriends ELLEN DORÉ WATSON
My Friend’s Divorce NAOMI SHIHAB NYE
Chocolate RITA DOVE
Magnificat MICHÈLE ROBERTS
Secret Lives BARBARA RAS
To Flush, My Dog ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
HOW TO LIVE
* * *
May 2 DAVID LEHMAN
From a Letter to His Daughter RALPH WALDO EMERSON
To be of use MARGE PIERCY
Leap Before You Look W. H. AUDEN
Try to Praise the Mutilated World ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI
Leisure W. H. DAVIES
The Waking THEODORE ROETHKE
September, 1918 AMY LOWELL
6 A.M. Thoughts DICK DAVIS
A Minor Bird ROBERT FROST
May today there be peace within ST. TERESA OF AVILA
The Bacchae Chorus EURIPIDES
The Dawn W. B. YEATS
Don’t Quit UNKNOWN
All Things Pass LAO-TZU
Simple Gifts ANONYMOUS (SHAKER HYMN)
24th September 1945 NAZIM HIKMET
The Journey MARY OLIVER
Ithaka CONSTANTINE P. CAVAFY
The Colder the Air ELIZABETH BISHOP
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CREDITS
About the Author
Also by Caroline Kennedy
Copyright
She walks in beauty
GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
INTRODUCTION
THIS BOOK BEGAN around the time I turned fifty. Like my friends who had been there before me, I dreaded it for months, and was relieved when it was over and life seemed much the same as before. One of the nicest things that happened was that three friends sent me poems to mark the occasion. One poem was about love, one helped me cope with loss, and the third spoke to ways of being. I kept them and passed them on to others when the time seemed right. To me, that’s the gift of poetry—it shapes an endless conversation about the most important things in life.
Creating an anthology of poems centered around the stages of a woman’s life still seems like an unlikely project to me. I have shied away from the personal genre of literature, and never thought that growing old would be something I would do. Perhaps that’s because, in my family, my cousins and I still refer to our parents’ generation as “the grown-ups,” although most of us are in our fifties. But there seemed to be something profoundly different about hitting the middle-age mark—a sense of accomplishment, an emotional reckoning, and a feeling of renewed possibility about the future. All that, and a tiny terror of sliding down the hill into a crumpled heap of old age. Working on this book reminded me that the personal is universal, being a woman is a profound part of who I am, and sharing experiences and emotions is the best way we can help ourselves and others.
Approaching middle age made me appreciate my deep connection to the women I have grown up with, worked with, and whose children have grown up with mine. We have learned what is important, we can look back as well as forward, and we have the chance to weave the choices we have already made into the changes we want to bring to our lives. Reading poems can help bring clarity and insight to emotions that can be confusing or contradictory.
Women have always been at the center of poetry—throughout history we have been its inspiration, and more recently, women are the authors of the most profound poetry of our time. One of the oldest known poets in the world is a woman—Sappho—and her fragments of verse are as emotionally piercing today as the work of many modern writers. The love poetry of medieval troubadours, Renaissance playwrights, and Romantic poets (almost exclusively men) celebrated female beauty and mystery; conquest, heartbreak, and desire. In the twentieth century, women poets gave voice to the pain and joy, relationships and loneliness, the work and the life of women. In today’s world, as women struggle to balance work and family, to be good mothers and friends, to care for our children and our parents, poetry can help us accept our limitations, and inspire us to overcome them. In a world where language is too often used to manipulate, poems can help us find our authentic voice.
The book is divided into sections that seem broad enough to encompass the milestones in a woman’s life—“Falling in Love,” “Breaking Up,” “Marriage,” “Motherhood,” “Death and Grief”—but they are intended as helpful, if arbitrary, dividers. Other sections are about some of the things that make us happy, like “Friendship” or “Beauty.” My favorite section is the one titled “How to Live.” It includes the poems that started this book, and many others, each containing wisdom that has helped me on my own journey.
Collecting these poems reminded me that when I was younger, I thought my task was to forge ahead and succeed as an individual. But growing older has helped me realize that our success lies in our relationships—with the family we are born into, the friends we make, the people we fall in love with, and the children we have. Sometimes we struggle, sometimes we adapt, and at other times we set a course for others to follow. We are all leaders and followers in our lives. We are constantly learning from and teaching one another. We learn, too, that the most important work is not done by those who seem the most important, but by those who care the most.
Women have always been the weavers of the world, literally and figuratively. We weave people together, we weave the experiences of life into patterns, and we weave our stories into words. Poetry has been one of the ways we do this. Poems distill our deepest emotions into a very few words—words that we can remember, carry with us, and share with others as we talk and weave the cloth of life.
FALLING IN LOVE
THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS TO FALL IN LOVE—and so many people to fall in love with. When I was young, I went to a convent school, read historical romances, and dreamed of the day a modern Scarlet Pimpernel would sweep me off my feet, but really, I was only in love with my pony. As a result, in high school, I was way behind the girls who had already figured out the basics of human-to-human love and despaired of ever having a boyfriend. One of the reassuring things my mother said to me was that if you love someone, that person will love you back. Although there is not much evidence to support that theory, I decided to believe it, and eventually, lik
e all mothers, she turned out to be right.
Now, as I watch my children fall in love, it brings back the memories of excitement, uncertainty, adventure, and the joy of belonging to someone. Falling in love means you aren’t a child anymore and, as Rumi writes in “Come to the Orchard in Spring,” nothing else matters. In these poems, John Keats captures the essence of desire, Percy Bysshe Shelley expresses the delights of kissing, and Christopher Marlowe rules out anything but love at first sight.
Throughout the ages, one of poetry’s challenges has been to express mystical experiences in language. Falling in love is a series of moments in which the ordinary becomes extraordinary. Those moments are not continuous, but the sense of union with another person is just about the best thing there is. Perhaps that is why Dorothy Parker celebrates our need to do it over and over again.
A Very Valentine
GERTRUDE STEIN
Very fine is my valentine.
Very fine and very mine.
Very mine is my valentine very mine and very fine.
Very fine is my valentine and mine, very fine very mine and
mine is my valentine.
Song
JOHN KEATS
O blush not so! O blush not so!
Or I shall think you knowing;
And if you smile the blushing while,