It's an earth song,—
And I've been waiting long for an earth song.
It's a spring song,—
And I've been waiting long for a spring song.
Strong as the shoots of a new plant
Strong as the bursting of new buds
Strong as the coming of the first child from its mother's womb.
It's an earth song,
A body song,
A spring song,
I have been waiting long for this spring song.
This poem is in the public domain.
slumped in the crook of a nook, bereft
of lullabies and apple pie, playing duck duck
goose with my mind to find the smallest child
nested inside another then another until I
ring around the rosie back to myself. This
recess is cold. It’s like everyone vamoosed
to get to America first. Hello, what if we didn’t
want to go? All that’s left is an echo and a
banshee I hardly know. Some people say
hypnosis or past life regression therapy may
help, but I locked this chamber for a reason.
Ate the key. What is the shape of memory
that needs to be forgotten? Yet a voice keeps
calling: Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me
Copyright © 2022 by Su Hwang. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on January 24, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.
We shall have our little day.
Take my hand and travel still
Round and round the little way,
Up and down the little hill.
It is good to love again;
Scan the renovated skies,
Dip and drive the idling pen,
Sweetly tint the paling lies.
Trace the dripping, piercèd heart,
Speak the fair, insistent verse,
Vow to God, and slip apart,
Little better, little worse.
Would we need not know before
How shall end this prettiness;
One of us must love the more,
One of us shall love the less.
Thus it is, and so it goes;
We shall have our day, my dear.
Where, unwilling, dies the rose
Buds the new, another year.
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on January 23, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.
This wind sighing recalls certain things.
I warned you:
Beware of it:
Passion has wings;
And will return with the year’s return
Like a bird on migrant wings.
This wind sighing recalls
Certain half-remembered things.
You have left something of you behind.
But you went with eager step,
Fearful, lest what you have left behind
Should halt your eager step.
When the lean years bring you back,
You will be as one
Who has laughed the lean years with strange men;
You will be different then.
Beyond the gate of the sun
I shall not seek you:
Before the last days are done
You have sung your last song,
You have played your last tune,
You have danced your steps too soon.
It is not easy
When great moments are so few:
Beyond the gate of the sun
I shall not seek you.
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on January 22, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.