A Poet Reflects

Strangely her heart yet clutched a strange twilight,
One that had lured with dream down a cypressed way …
Could ever she forget that night
And one black pool, her image in the water,
Or how fat lily stalks were stirred and shifted
By terrible things beneath, and how there drifted
Through slimy trunks and fern a goatish laughter.

—Robert Penn Warren, from section III of “Portraits of Three Ladies,” in The Collected Poems of Robert Penn Warren (Louisiana State University Press, 1998)

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