“
Now reading
In Corona
TWO POEMS
IN CORONA
Even the poorest Italians in Corona
persuade fondly
gardens in weary back-yards.
Early spring
they turn darker soil sunwards,
at one with the tottering decorative
of banisters, roofs,
green and rose paints curling.
Small trees straggling,
soft-cheeked babies blossoming wide-eyed;
petals dusty through profusion.
Open-shirted at sun-down,
men with lovers' patience
wheedle the sandy Long Island soil.
IT WAS ALMOST