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Where can i find the Gwenharwood (1 Viewer)

Azn fairies

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Joined
Aug 22, 2003
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Sydney
does naybody know where i can get the gwen harwood poems ..im missing "in the park" "mother who gave me life" and "glass jar" ..
 
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The Glass Jar

A child one summers evening soaked
A glass jar in the reeling sun
Hoping to keep, when day was done
And all the suns disciples cloaked
In dream and darkness from his passion fled,
This host, this pulse of light beside his bed.

Wrapped in a scarf his monstrance stood
Ready to bless, to exorcize,
Monsters that whispering would rise
Nightly form the intricate wood
That ringed his bed, to light with total power
The holy commonplace of field and flower.

He slept. His sidelong violence summoned
Fiends whose mosaic vision saw
His heart entire. Pincer and claw,
Trident and vampire fang, envenomed
With his most secret hate, reached and came near
Ti pierce him in the thicket of his fear.

He woke, recalled his jay of light,
And trembling reached one hand to grope
The mantling scarf away. Then hope fell
Headlong from its eagle height.
Through the dark house he ran, sobbing his loss,
To the last clearing that he dared not cross:

The bedroom where his comforter
lay in his rivals fast embrace
And faithless would not turn her face
from the gross violence done to her.
Loves proud executants played from a score
No child could read or realize. Once more

To bed, and to worse dreams he went.
A ring of skeletons compelled
His steps with theirs. His father held
Fiddle and bow, and scraped assent
To the malignant ballet. The child dreamed
This dance perpetual, and waking screamed

Fresh morning to his window-sill.
As ravening birds began their song
The resurrected sun, whose long
Triumph through flower-brushed fields would fill
Nights gulfs and hungers, came to wink and laugh
In a glass jar beside a crumpled scarf.

-------

In the park

She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date.
Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt.
A third draws aimless patterns in the dirt.
Someone she loved once passes by too late

to feign indifference to that casual nod.
How nice, et cetera. Time holds great surprises.
From his neat head unquestionably rises
a small balloon but for the grace of God

They stand a while in flickering light, rehearsing
the childrens names and birthdays. Its so sweet
to hear their chatter, watch them grow and thrive,
she say to his departing smile. Then, nursing
the youngest child, sits staring at her feet.
To the wind she says, They have eaten me alive.


Those are the only two i bothered typing up.
 

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