Under the bronze crown …
Richard Wilbur
The warping night air having brought the boom …
When you come, as you soon must, to the streets of our city, …
After the last bulletins the windows darken …
A striped blouse in a clearing by Bazille …
After the clash of elevator gates …
I. …
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys, …
To claim, at a dead party, to have spotted a grackle, …
Still, citizen sparrow, this vulture which you call …
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides …
Now winter downs the dying of the year, …