'He loved three things, alive:'


He loved three things, alive:
White peacocks, songs at eve,
And antique maps of America.
Hated when children cried,
And raspberry jam with tea,
And feminine hysteria.
…And he had married me.


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Return to the Anna Akhmatova Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; 'Here we're all drunkards and whores,'

Anton Chekhov
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Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
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Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson