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Summer Evening

The salmon west leapt soft, spawned wild to sunset,

and the poaching lovers stood heron-still in the foam

of the orchard, baited to catch some sound of home,

while no dog barked and no door slammed and no child shouted.

But poplar leaves clashed like cymbals in the thin wind that blew

and at last the moon boomed out of the apple-tree and the two

lovers drove into the amorous dusk

and swam like swans through the clamorous air.

from Isabella Gardner: The Collected PoemsFind it in the library

Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2011
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.

Published in Isabella Gardner Poems

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