Delmore Schwartz


Time is the school in which we learn,
That time is the fire in which we burn.

Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day

I am to my own heart merely a serf
And follow humbly as it glides with autos
And come attentive when it is too sick,
In the bad cold of sorrow much too weak,
To drink some coffee, light a cigarette
And think of summer beaches, blue and gay.

I Am to My Own Heart Merely a Serf

Love is the tact of every good,
The only warmth, the only peace.

For the One Who Would Take Man's Life in His Hands