Poem by Ina Donna Coolbrith

Loneliness

THE waning moon was up; the
Were faint, and very few;
The vines about the window-sill
Were wet with falling dew;

A little, cloud before the wind
Was drifting down the west;
I heard the moaning of the sea
In its unquiet rest:

Until, I know not from what grief,
Or thought of other years,
The hand I leaned upon was cold,
And wet with falling tears.

1. Copa De Oro
2. Love-Song
3. The Day of Our Lord
4. Rose and Thistle
5. The Singer of the Sea

Katherine Mansfield Loneliness ("Now it is Loneliness who comes at night")

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