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Ina Donna Coolbrith (Ина Донна Кулбрит)


Just for a Day


JUST for a day to pat my sorrow by!
Forget that summer dies, that roses die,
And the swift swallow, circling round the eaves,
Leaves us with falling leaves.

Forget the sky shall lose its gold; the sea
Grow white in tempests; and the long nights be
Forlorn of stars, and dreary with the rains
Beating against the panes.

Forget that change is, and that sorrow is,
That souls grow tired, and sweetest memories
In time turn bitter, and the one sure friend
Is death, that makes an end.

Just for a day to put aside the years,
Washed clean of wrongs, of sins, of heavy tears,
And dream that life is fair, and love a truth,
And youth is always youth.

That if the swallow goes, 't is for a day,
To come again at dawn with merrier lay,
Learned in the old fair lands, and the rose brings
New splendors with new springs.

That God is near, and heaven near, and death
So far the young heart scarcely reckoneth
The time by years and years, as now by days —
And the whole earth is praise.

And faith is as a spotless dove, with wings
Unclogged with doubt, with many questionings
Unanswered; and the heart not yet doth tire
Of its own vain desire.

Just for a day to put all sad things by,
Forget that dreams are dead, that dreams must die —
Joy is a breath, and hope a star that sets:
Forget, as love forgets!



Ina Donna Coolbrith's other poems:
  1. Bret Harte (A stir of pines in the forest)
  2. Meadowlarks
  3. Two
  4. At the Close
  5. Siesta


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