Sonnett to Modernists
by Mildred Breedlove
 

 


 

I cannot be content with grass and straw

As long as there are flowers for the soul

Though millions show obeisance in their awe

Of him who says that straw will make one whole.

I cannot be content with ugliness

Though ugliness be found on every tongue,

Nor save myself from hunger and distress

If I must eat the straw to be among

Those favored by the critic and his hire.

I must have beauty in the song upon my lyre

Though forced to stand alone and go unheard.

 

And I will be content to bear the scorn

Till beauty finds a time to be reborn.

 

 

From Those Desert Hills (1959)

Copyright Mildred Breedlove. All rights reserved.