Poem – The Civil War – Anne Sexton

I am torn in two 

but I will conquer myself. 

I will dig up the pride. 

I will take scissors 

and cut out the beggar. 

I will take a crowbar 

and pry out the broken 

pieces of God in me. 

Just like a jigsaw puzzle, 

I will put Him together again 

with the patience of a chess player. 
How many pieces? 
It feels like thousands, 

God dressed up like a whore 

in a slime of green algae. 

God dressed up like an old man 

staggering out of His shoes. 

God dressed up like a child, 

all naked, 

even without skin, 

soft as an avocado when you peel it. 

And others, others, others. 
But I will conquer them all 

and build a whole nation of God 

in me – but united, 

build a new soul, 

dress it with skin 

and then put on my shirt 

and sing an anthem, 

a song of myself.

Poem – The Dream -Amy Levy 

Believe me, this was true last night, Tho’ it is false to-day. 

  • A.M.F. Robinson. 

A fair dream to my chamber flew: 

Such a crowd of folk that stirred, 

Jested, fluttered; only you, 

You alone of all that band, 

Calm and silent, spake no word. 

Only once you neared my place, 

And your hand one moment’s space 

Sought the fingers of my hand; 

Your eyes flashed to mine; I knew 

All was well between us two. 

On from dream to dream I past, 

But the first sweet vision cast 

Mystic radiance o’er the last. 

When I woke the pale night lay 

Still, expectant of the day; 

All about the chamber hung 

Tender shade of twilight gloom; 

The fair dream hovered round me, clung 

To my thought like faint perfume:- 

Like sweet odours, such as cling 

To the void flask, which erst encloses 

Attar of rose; or the pale string 

Of amber which has lain with roses.

Poem – Borderland – Amy Levy

Am I waking, am I sleeping? 

As the first faint dawn comes creeping 

Thro’ the pane, I am aware 

Of an unseen presence hovering, 

Round, above, in the dusky air: 

A downy bird, with an odorous wing, 

That fans my forehead, and sheds perfume, 

As sweet as love, as soft as death, 

Drowsy-slow through the summer-gloom. 

My heart in some dream-rapture saith, 

It is she. Half in a swoon, 

I spread my arms in slow delight.– 

O prolong, prolong the night, 

For the nights are short in June!