Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die.

My soul is now her day, my day her night, So I lie down, and so I rise.

Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die.

Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?

Poetry is not a way of saying things; it's a way of seeing things.

Leo Connellan has retained his soul and voice in Provincetown and Other Poems.

But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.