A Poem For Sunday


“The Boat” by Stevie Smith:

The boat that took my love away
He sent again to me
To tell me that he should not sleep
Alone beneath the sea.

The flower and fruit of love are mine
The ant, the fieldmouse and the mole,
But now a tiger prowls without
And claws upon my soul.

Love is not love that wounded bleeds
And bleeding sullies slow,
Come death within my hands and I
Unto my love will go.

(From Collected Poems of Stevie Smith © 1966 by Stevie Smith. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp. Photo by Justin Ackerman)