Babette Deutsch

I must go all my days
Softly as snow, whose wings
Follow the hidden ways
Of unimagined springs.

My striker heart is caught
In briers of surprise;
Its beats are hushed as thought,
And eloquent as eyes.

I cry God pity them
Whose joy is boisterous
Since I have touched the hem
Of  the miraculous.

Babette Deutsch was an American poet, critic, translator, and novelist.
Originally published:
April 1, 1924


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