Poem by Elinor Wylie

Poor Earth

It is not heaven: bitter seed 
Leavens its entrails with despair 
It is a star where dragons breed: 
Devils have a footing there.

The sky has bent it out of shape; 
The sun has strapped it to his wheel; 
Its course is crooked to escape 
Traps and gins of stone and steel.

It balances on air, and spins 
Snared by strong transparent space; 
I forgive it all its sins; 
I kiss the scars upon its face.

1. Upon Your Heart, Which Is.the Heart of All
2. The Little Beauty That I Was Allowed
3. In Our Content, before the Autumn Came
4. What Other Name Had Half Expressed the Whole
5. Absent Thee from Felicity Awhile

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