{"id":2057167,"date":"2005-09-14T14:52:00","date_gmt":"2005-09-14T14:52:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/2005\/09\/14\/A-November-Night\/"},"modified":"2007-11-26T03:36:46","modified_gmt":"2007-11-26T03:36:46","slug":"A-November-Night","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/?p=2057167","title":{"rendered":"A November Night"},"content":{"rendered":"
Stumbleupon Review<\/a>\n<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/div>\n

<\/a>
\n
\nA November Night<\/i>
\n
\nThere! See the line of lights,
\nA Chain of stars down either side of the street —
\nWhy can’t you life the chain and give it to me,
\nA Necklace for my throat? I’d twist it round and round
\nAnd you could play with it. You smile at me
\nAs though I were a little dreamy child
\nBehind whose eyes the fairies live . . . And see,
\nThe people on the street look up at us
\nAll envious. We are a king and a queen,
\nOur royal carriage is a motor bus,
\nWe watch our subjects with a haughty joy . . .
\nHow still you are! Have you been hard at work
\nAnd are you tired to-night? It is so long
\nSince I have seen you — four whole days, I think.
\nMy heart is crowded full of foolish thoughts
\nLike early flowers in an April meadow,
\nAnd I must give them to you, all of them,
\nBefore they fade. The people I have met,
\nThe play I saw, the trivial shifting things
\nThat loom too big or shrink too little, shadows
\nThat hurry, gesturing along a wall,
\nHaunting or gay — and yet they all grow real
\nAnd take their proper size here in my heart
\nWhen you have seen them . . . There’s the Plaza now,
\nA lake of light! To-night it almost seems
\nThat all the lights are gathered in your eyes,
\nDrawn somehow toward you. See the open park
\nLying below us with a million lamps
\nScattered in wise disorder like the stars.
\nWe look down on them as God must look down
\nOn constellations floating under Him
\nTangled in clouds . . . Come, then, and let us walk
\nSine we have reached the park. It is our garden,
\nAll black and blossomless this winter night,
\nBut we bring April with us, you and I;
\nWe set the whole world on the trail of spring.
\nI think that every path we ever took
\nHas marked our footprints in mysterious fire,
\nDelicate gold that only fairies see.
\nWhen they wake up at dawn in hollow tree-trunks
\nAnd come out on the drowsy park, they look
\nAlong the empty paths and say, “Oh, here
\nThey went, and here, and here, and here! Come, see,
\nHere is their bench, take hands and let us dance
\nAbout it in a windy ring and make
\nA circle round it only they can cross
\nWhen they come back again!” . . . Look at the lake —
\nDo you remember how we watched the swans
\nThat night in late October while they slept?
\nSwans must have stately dreams, I think. But now
\nThe lake bears only thin reflected lights
\nThat shake a little. how I long to take
\nOne from the cold black water — new-made gold
\nTo give you in your hand! And see, and see
\nThere is a star, deep in the lake, a star!
\nOh, dimmer than a pearl — if you stoop down
\nYour hand could almost reach it up to me . . . <\/p>\n

There was a new frail yellow moon to-night —
\nI wish you could have had it for a cup
\nWith stars like dew to fill it to the brim . . . <\/p>\n

How cold it is! Even the lights are cold;
\nThey have put shawls of fog around them, see!
\nWhat if the air should grow so dimly white
\nThat we woudl lose our way along the paths
\n~ Made new by walls of moving mist receding
\n~ The more we follow . . . What a silver night!
\n~ That was our bench the time you said to me
\n~ The long new poem — but how different now,
\n~ How eerie with the curtain of the fog
\n~ Making it so strange to all the friendly trees!
\n~ There is no wind, and yet great curving scrolls
\n~ Carve themselves, ever changing in the mist
\n~ Walk on a little, let me stand here watching
\n~ To see you, too, grown strange to me and far . . . <\/p>\n

~ I used to wonder how the park would be
\n~ If one night we could have it all alone —
\n~ No lovers with close arm-encircles waists
\n~ To whisper and break in upon our dreams
\n~ And now we have it! Every wish comes true!
\n~ We are alone now in a fleecy world;
\n~ Even the stars have gone. We two alone!<\/p>\n

sara teasdale . 1917<\/i><\/font><\/font>\t<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Stumbleupon Review A November Night There! See the line of lights, A Chain of stars down either side of the street — Why can’t you life the chain and give it to me, A Necklace for my throat? I’d twist … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":""},"categories":[10991],"tags":[400569],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2057167"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2057167"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2057167\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2057167"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2057167"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/su.blog.bunty.tv\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2057167"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}