Done With

　　by Ann Stanford

　　My house is torn down——

　　Plaster sifting， the pillars broken，

　　Beams jagged， the wall crushed by the bulldozer.

　　The whole roof has fallen

　　On the hall and the kitchen

　　The bedrooms， the parlor.

　　They are trampling the garden——

　　My mother's lilac， my father's grapevine，

　　The freesias， the jonquils， the grasses.

　　Hot asphalt goes down

　　Over the torn stems， and hardens.

　　What will they do in springtime

　　Those bulbs and stems groping upward

　　That drown in earth under the paving，

　　Thick with sap， pale in the dark

　　As they try the unrolling of green.

　　May they double themselves

　　Pushing together up to the sunlight，

　　May they break through the seal stretched above them

　　Open and flower and cry we are living.