Greg, nice to hear your dulcet voice! And rest assured that I couldn't agree with you more about Frost's inordinate skill with closure. That's why the ending of "Birches" disappoints me even more than it otherwise would; it's-- what?-- beneath him, or something.
Wilbur, yes indeed. And May Swenson. The ending of her poem "Question" renders me speechless, and still more speechless (??) now that she has died (1989). I can't resist posting the whole thing, in case there is anyone out there who does not know this poem:
Question
Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen
Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt
Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead
How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye
With cloud for shift
how will I hide?
Come to think of it, the opening and the middle seem just as strong to me as the close. Why, I wonder, don't people talk more about Swenson? Shall I open a new topic on her? I think I will, unless she has been discussed recently. Has she?
Marilyn
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