Silence by Marianne Moore
My father used to say,
“Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow’s grave
nor the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self reliant like the cat –
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse’s limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth –
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint.”
Nor was he insincere in saying, “`Make my house your inn’.”
Inns are not residences.
-- sdh
Love, love, love.
Posted by: Stephanie Brown | May 31, 2011 at 12:01 PM
Great ending. DL
Posted by: The Best American Poetry | May 31, 2011 at 12:31 PM
I know some people on whose pillow I'd like to leave this poem when they come to visit.
Posted by: Laura Orem | May 31, 2011 at 12:31 PM
Nice one!
Posted by: Terence Winch | June 01, 2011 at 09:11 AM