Ina Donna Coolbrith (Ина Донна Кулбрит)

A Memory

THROUGH rifts of cloud the moon's soft silver slips;
A little rain has fallen with the night,
Which from the emerald under-sky still drips
Where the magnolias open, broad and white.

So near my window I might reach my hand
And touch these milky stars, that to and fro
Wave, odorous. . . . Yet 't was in another land —
How long ago, my love, how long ago!

1. Memorial Poem
2. Two
3. From Russian Hill
4. In the Orchard
5. Not Yet

Edward Sill (Эдвард Силл) A Memory ("UPON the barren, lonely hill")

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