The Poems of Marianne Moore

We are what we were at birth, and each trait has remained

in conformity with earth's and with heaven's logic:

Be the devil's tool, resort to black magic,

None can diverge from the ends which Heaven foreordained.

We Call Them the Brave

who likely were reluctant to be brave.

What of it? We call them brave

perhaps? Yes; what if the time should come

when no one will fight for anything

and there's nothing of worth to save.

Some speak of things we know, as new;

And you, of things unknown as things forgot.

Love, ah Love, when your slipknot's drawn,

One can but say, "Farewell, good sense."

that which is impossible to force, it is impossible

to hinder.

My father used to say "Superior people never make long visits."

Beauty is everlasting

and dust is for a time.

The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;

not in silence, but restraint.

What is our innocence,

what is our guilt? All are

naked, none is safe.