The Fairies Break Their Dances

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1. Break, Break, Break Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the […]...
2. THE FAIRIES If ye will with Mab find grace, Set each platter in his place; Rake the fire up, and get Water in, ere sun be set. Wash your pails and cleanse your dairies, Sluts are loathsome to the fairies; Sweep your house; Who doth not so, Mab will pinch her by the toe....
3. The Lost Dances of Cranes Your fields are empty now. Only your ghosts dance While cranes of another kind Dance cities into being. All that remain of you are A fading crackle of your energy And some grainy video footage That people in the new cities Will watch to marvel At the wonders the world Once held....
4. Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard We, the Fairies, blithe and antic, Of dimensions not gigantic, Though the moonshine mostly keep us, Oft in orchards frisk and peep us. Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen, be your apples. When to bed the world are bobbing, Then’s the time for orchard-robbing; […]...
5. Dancing Tango Oh, Orlando! Remember the night we danced Quietly on the sands where music Was played? Your words were Wonderers, said quietly In the pockets of my ears. Oh, Esphahan! With your turquoise blue mosques And lovers hiding under the sands By the Zayandehrood and its haunting Blue skies. Still the words did Wonders when they […]...
6. Mid-Term Break I sat all morning in the college sick bay Counting bells knelling classes to a close. At two o’clock our neighbors drove me home. In the porch I met my father crying He had always taken funerals in his stride And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow. The baby cooed and laughed […]...
7. The Identification So you think its Stephen? Then I’d best make sure Be on the safe side as it were. Ah, theres been a mistake. The hair You see, its black, now Stephens fair… Whats that? The explosion? Of course, burnt black. Silly of me. I should have known. Then lets get on. The face, is that […]...
8. Candles The days of our future stand in front of us Like a row of little lit candles Golden, warm, and lively little candles. The days past remain behind us, A mournful line of extinguished candles; The ones nearest are still smoking, Cold candles, melted, and bent. I do not want to look at them; their […]...
9. For K. R. on her Sixtieth Birthday Blow out the candles of your cake. They will not leave you in the dark, Who round with grace this dusky arc Of the grand tour which souls must take. You who have sounded William Blake, And the still pool, to Plato’s mark, Blow out the candles of your cake. They will not leave you […]...
10. Towards Break Of Day Was it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: “There is a waterfall Upon Ben Bulben side That all my childhood counted dear; Were I to travel far and wide I could not find a […]...
11. Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it, Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee, Proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it, Not to partake thy passion, my humility. Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for […]...
12. Oberon to the Queen of the Fairies My OBERON, with ev’ry sprite “That gilds the vapours of the night, “Shall dance and weave the verdant ring “With joy that mortals thus can sing; “And when thou sigh’st MARIA’S name, “And mourn’st to feel a hopeless flame, “Eager they’ll catch the tender note “Just parting from thy tuneful throat, “And bear it to […]...
13. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
14. The Fairies Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl’s feather! Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the […]...
15. The Break It was also my violent heart that broke, Falling down the front hall stairs. It was also a message I never spoke, Calling, riser after riser, who cares About you, who cares, splintering up The hip that was merely made of crystal, The post of it and also the cup. I exploded in the hallway […]...
16. The Fairies' Siege I have been given my charge to keep Well have I kept the same! Playing with strife for the most of my life, But this is a different game. I’11 not fight against swords unseen, Or spears that I cannot view Hand him the keys of the place on your knees ‘Tis the Dreamer whose […]...
17. Counting Sheep A scientist has a test tube full of sheep. He Wonders if he should try to shrink a pasture For them. They are like grains of rice. He wonders if it is possible to shrink something Out of existence. He wonders if the sheep are aware of their tininess, If they have any sense of […]...
18. The Break Away Your daisies have come On the day of my divorce: The courtroom a cement box, A gas chamber for the infectious Jew in me And a perhaps land, a possibly promised land For the Jew in me, But still a betrayal room for the till-death-do-us- And yet a death, as in the unlocking of scissors […]...
19. Sing of the Banner at Day-Break POET. O A NEW song, a free song, Flapping, flapping, flapping, flapping, by sounds, by voices clearer, By the wind’s voice and that of the drum, By the banner’s voice, and child’s voice, and sea’s voice, and father’s voice, Low on the ground and high in the air, On the ground where father and child […]...
20. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
21. Break of Day There seemed a smell of autumn in the air At the bleak end of night; he shivered there In a dank, musty dug-out where he lay, Legs wrapped in sand-bags,-lumps of chalk and clay Spattering his face. Dry-mouthed, he thought, ‘To-day We start the damned attack; and, Lord knows why, Zero’s at nine; how bloody […]...
22. I Wonder What It Feels Like to be Drowned? Look at my knees, That island rising from the steamy seas! The candles a tall lightship; my two hands Are boats and barges anchored to the sands, With mighty cliffs all round; They’re full of wine and riches from far lands…. I wonder what it feels like to be drowned? I can make caves, By […]...
23. Break Of Day ‘Tis true, ’tis day; what though it be? O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Why should we rise? because ’tis light? Did we lie down, because ’twas night? Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither, Should in despite of light keep us together. Light hath no tongue, but is all eye; If […]...
24. To My Brother George Many the wonders I this day have seen: The sun, when first he kissed away the tears That filled the eyes of Morn;-the laurelled peers Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;- The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, Its voice mysterious, which […]...
25. Break of Day in the Trenches The darkness crumbles away It is the same old druid Time as ever, Only a live thing leaps my hand, A queer sardonic rat, As I pull the parapet’s poppy To stick behind my ear. Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew Your cosmopolitan sympathies, Now you have touched this English hand You […]...
26. BARLEY-BREAK; OR, LAST IN HELL We two are last in hell; what may we fear To be tormented or kept pris’ners here I Alas! if kissing be of plagues the worst, We’ll wish in hell we had been last and first....
27. A BREAK IN THE RHYTHM OF LIFE Bhaskar Roy Barman When the world itself looked exhausted, Revolving round the sun; When a bumble-bee sounded tired Of humming round a ternate leaf; When a few fishermen were venting their rage on their net -they looked fed up of mending their net off and on – And when the fish were leaping and playing […]...
28. Anthem For Doomed Youth What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them […]...
29. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: And let there glide by many a pearly car Pink robes, and wavy hair, and […]...
30. Men At Thirty Thirty today, I saw The trees flare briefly like The candles upon a cake As the sun went down the sky, A momentary flash Yet there was time to wish Before the break light could die If I had known what to wish As once I must have known Bending above the clean candlelit tablecloth […]...
31. Broadway Under Grand Central’s tattered vault maybe half a dozen electric stars still lit One saxophone blew, and a sheer black scrim Billowed over some minor constellation Under repair. Then, on Broadway, red wings In a storefront tableau, lustrous, the live macaws Preening, beaks opening and closing Like those animated knives that unfold all night In […]...
32. My Cross I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it; Although I hoped that late or soon Someone would praise a bit Its purity and grace forlone, Its beauty tulip-cool… But as my poem died still-born, I felt a fool. I wrote a verse of vulgar trend Spiced with an oath or two; […]...
33. Munition Maker I am the Cannon King, behold! I perish on a throne of gold. With forest far and turret high, Renowned and rajah-rich am I. My father was, and his before, With wealth we owe to war on war; But let no potentate be proud. . . There are no pockets in a shroud. By nature […]...
34. Dream Song 64: Supreme my holdings, greater yet my need Supreme my holdings, greater yet my need, Thoughtless I go out. Dawn. Have I my cig’s, My flaskie O, O crystal cock, —my kneel has gone to seed, — And anybody’s blessing? (Blast the MIGs For making funble so My tardy readying.) Yes, utter’ that. Anybody’s blessing? —Mr Bones, You makes too much I might […]...
35. The Ringlet ‘Your ringlets, your ringlets, That look so golden-gay, If you will give me one, but one, To kiss it night and day, The never chilling touch of Time Will turn it silver-gray; And then shall I know it is all true gold To flame and sparkle and stream as of old. Till all the comets […]...
36. At Cheyenne Young Lochinvar came in from the West, With fringe on his trousers and fur on his vest; The width of his hat-brim could nowhere be beat, His No. Brogans were chuck full of feet, His girdle was horrent with pistols and things, And he flourished a handful of aces on kings. The fair Mariana sate […]...
37. The Bombay Train Song He hangs on dangling handholds As the train sways and careens Endless nondescript buildings unfold Their secrets as the tired warrior returns. The day is over the night falls Thickly through the barricaded windows The man’s sleepy head lolls On his shoulder in a dream disturbed. The days are a hard white collar brawl The […]...
38. The Rose A ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North, Grew in a little garden all alone; A sweeter flower did Nature ne’er put forth, Nor fairer garden yet was never known: The maidens danced about it morn and noon, And learned bards of it their ditties made; The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon Water’d […]...
39. Yes, the Dead Speak to Us YES, the Dead speak to us. This town belongs to the Dead, to the Dead and to the Wilderness. Back of the clamps on a fireproof door they hold the papers of the Dead in a house here And when two living men fall out, when one says the Dead spoke a Yes, and the […]...
40. Poem 92 VPon a day as loue lay sweetly slumbring, All in his mothers lap: A gentle Bee with his loud trumpet murm’ring, About him flew by hap. Whereof when he was wakened with the noyse, And saw the beast so small: Whats this (quoth he) that giues so great a voyce, That wakens men withall. In […]...