<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348249" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poem in Prose</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">This poem is for my wife.<br>I have made it plainly and honestly:<br>The mark is on it<br>Like the burl on the knife.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have not made it for praise.<br>She has no more need for praise<br>Than summer has<br>Or the bright days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In all that becomes a woman<br>Her words and her ways are beautiful:<br>Love's lovely duty,<br>the well-swept room.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wherever she is there is sun<br>And time and a sweet air:<br>Peace is there,<br>Work done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are always curtains and flowers<br>And candles and baked bread<br>And a cloth spread<br>And a clean house.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her voice when she sings is a voice<br>At dawn by a freshening spring<br>Where the wave leaps in the wind<br>And rejoices.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wherever she is it is now.<br>It is here where the apples are:<br>Here in the stars,<br>In the quick hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The greatest and richest good,<br>My own life to live in,<br>This she has given me --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If giver could.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Archibald+MacLeish">Archibald MacLeish</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348249" data-title="Poem in Prose de Archibald MacLeish" data-description="This poem is for my wife. I have made it plainly and honestly: The mark is on it Like the burl on the knife. I have not made it for praise. She has no more need for praise Than summer has Or the bright days. In all that becomes a woman Her words..."></div> </div> </div>

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