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| Richard Wilbur |
(1950)
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| A Simile For Her Smile | ||||
| Your smiling, or the hope, the thought of it, Makes in my mind such pause and abrupt ease as when the highway bridgegates fall, Balking the hasty traffic, which must sit On each side massed and staring while Deliberately the drawbridge starts to rise: Then horns are hushed, the oilsmoke rarifies, Above the idling motors one can tell The packetīs smooth approach, the slip, Slip of silken river past the sides, The ringing of clear bells, the dip And slow cascading of the paddle wheel. |
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