Not You
You never now. You could not keep
Crouched in the womb till time had come.
Those swarming particles that seep
Down centuries, life-burdensome,
None, none of us, begin again.
And you can never wonder where
You were, here, crying, rushed to the jumbled dead,
Or walk by crumbling seas, remembering then,
Or sigh for humdrum home while stars declare
Light’s glory raging and unread.
How can I ponder all that thought
Who felt your trying foot, unless
A cold and hollow wind has caught
A bird that whets its chirp. Snow, yes,
Iced gales for my imagining
How death and you were reconciled,
And howl, as down loud chasms, farewell to me.
You are no consequence now. And time can bring
Hot August’s amorous fly, but not you child,
Dust, once sweet possibility.
"Not You" was written for Delores Doggett, a first child who lived only one day, by her mother, poet, Dorothy Emerson. It is included in "Eve's Primer," a book of her poems published in 1991 by the Wallace Stevens Society. Emerson and husband, Frank Doggett, had two more children and were married for sixty years.
You never now. You could not keep
Crouched in the womb till time had come.
Those swarming particles that seep
Down centuries, life-burdensome,
None, none of us, begin again.
And you can never wonder where
You were, here, crying, rushed to the jumbled dead,
Or walk by crumbling seas, remembering then,
Or sigh for humdrum home while stars declare
Light’s glory raging and unread.
How can I ponder all that thought
Who felt your trying foot, unless
A cold and hollow wind has caught
A bird that whets its chirp. Snow, yes,
Iced gales for my imagining
How death and you were reconciled,
And howl, as down loud chasms, farewell to me.
You are no consequence now. And time can bring
Hot August’s amorous fly, but not you child,
Dust, once sweet possibility.
"Not You" was written for Delores Doggett, a first child who lived only one day, by her mother, poet, Dorothy Emerson. It is included in "Eve's Primer," a book of her poems published in 1991 by the Wallace Stevens Society. Emerson and husband, Frank Doggett, had two more children and were married for sixty years.
Not You
You never now. You could not keep
Crouched in the womb till time had come.
Those swarming particles that seep
Down centuries, life-burdensome,
None, none of us, begin again.
And you can never wonder where
You were, here, crying, rushed to the jumbled dead,
Or walk by crumbling seas, remembering then,
Or sigh for humdrum home while stars declare
Light’s glory raging and unread.
How can I ponder all that thought
Who felt your trying foot, unless
A cold and hollow wind has caught
A bird that whets its chirp. Snow, yes,
Iced gales for my imagining
How death and you were reconciled,
And howl, as down loud chasms, farewell to me.
You are no consequence now. And time can bring
Hot August’s amorous fly, but not you child,
Dust, once sweet possibility.
"Not You" was written for Delores Doggett, a first child who lived only one day, by her mother, poet, Dorothy Emerson. It is included in "Eve's Primer," a book of her poems published in 1991 by the Wallace Stevens Society. Emerson and husband, Frank Doggett, had two more children and were married for sixty years.
You never now. You could not keep
Crouched in the womb till time had come.
Those swarming particles that seep
Down centuries, life-burdensome,
None, none of us, begin again.
And you can never wonder where
You were, here, crying, rushed to the jumbled dead,
Or walk by crumbling seas, remembering then,
Or sigh for humdrum home while stars declare
Light’s glory raging and unread.
How can I ponder all that thought
Who felt your trying foot, unless
A cold and hollow wind has caught
A bird that whets its chirp. Snow, yes,
Iced gales for my imagining
How death and you were reconciled,
And howl, as down loud chasms, farewell to me.
You are no consequence now. And time can bring
Hot August’s amorous fly, but not you child,
Dust, once sweet possibility.
"Not You" was written for Delores Doggett, a first child who lived only one day, by her mother, poet, Dorothy Emerson. It is included in "Eve's Primer," a book of her poems published in 1991 by the Wallace Stevens Society. Emerson and husband, Frank Doggett, had two more children and were married for sixty years.
Gravesite Details
Relocated from Evergreen Cemetery - 4/21/1959.
