The Springtime

The red eyes of rabbits   
aren't sad. No one passes
the sad golden village in a barge
any more. The sunset   
will leave it alone. If the   
curtains hang askew   
it is no one's fault.
Around and around and around
everywhere the same sound   
of wheels going, and things   
growing older, growing   
silent. If the dogs
bark to each other
all night, and their eyes   
flash red, that's
nobody's business. They have   
a great space of dark to   
bark across. The rabbits   
will bare their teeth at   
the spring moon.

Denise Levertov, “The Springtime” from Collected Earlier Poems 1940-1960. Copyright © 1957, 1958, 1959, 1960, 1961, 1979 by Denise Levertov. Reprinted with the permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation,
Source: The Jacob's Ladder (New Directions, 1961)
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