Epitaph On A Disturber Of His Times

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1. Bells, Pool And Sleep Bells overbrim with sound And spread from cupolas Out through the shaking air Endless unbreaking circles Cool and clear as water. A stone dropped in the water Opens the lips of the pool And starts the unovertaking Rings, till the pool is full Of waves as the air of bells. The deep-sea bell of sleep […]...
2. Signs of the Times Air a-gittin’ cool an’ coolah, Frost a-comin’ in de night, Hicka’ nuts an’ wa’nuts fallin’, Possum keepin’ out o’ sight. Tu’key struttin’ in de ba’nya’d, Nary a step so proud ez his; Keep on struttin’, Mistah Tu’key, Yo’ do’ know whut time it is. Cidah press commence a-squeakin’ Eatin’ apples sto’ed away, Chillun swa’min’ ‘roun’ […]...
3. The Wood Pool Here is a voice that soundeth low and far And lyric­voice of wind among the pines, Where the untroubled, glimmering waters are, And sunlight seldom shines. Elusive shadows linger shyly here, And wood-flowers blow, like pale, sweet spirit-bloom, And white, slim birches whisper, mirrored clear In the pool’s lucent gloom. Here Pan might pipe, or […]...
4. To Ireland In The Coming Times Know, that I would accounted be True brother of a company That sang, to sweeten Ireland’s wrong, Ballad and story, rann and song; Nor be I any less of them, Because the red-rose-bordered hem Of her, whose history began Before God made the angelic clan, Trails all about the written page. When Time began to […]...
5. Stanzas for the Times Is this the land our fathers loved, The freedom which they toiled to win? Is this the soil whereon they moved? Are these the graves they slumber in? Are we the sons by whom are borne The mantles which the dead have worn? And shall we crouch above these graves, With craven soul and fettered […]...
6. Old Times Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times; Of the long lost golden hours. When “Winter” meant only Christmas chimes, And “Summer” wreaths of flowers. Life has grown old, and cold, my friend, And the winter now, means death. And summer blossoms speak all too plain Of the dear, dead forms beneath. But […]...
7. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
8. Epitaph for Maria Wentworth And here the precious dust is laid; Whose purely-temper’d clay was made So fine that it the guest betray’d. Else the soul grew so fast within, It broke the outward shell of sin, And so was hatch’d a cherubin. In height, it soar’d to God above; In depth, it did to knowledge move, And spread […]...
9. AN EPITAPH UPON A CHILD Virgins promised when I died, That they would each primrose-tide Duly, morn and evening, come, And with flowers dress my tomb. Having promised, pay your debts Maids, and here strew violets....
10. Three times we parted Breath and I Three times we parted Breath and I Three times He would not go But strove to stir the lifeless Fan The Waters strove to stay. Three Times the Billows tossed me up Then caught me like a Ball Then made Blue faces in my face And pushed away a sail That crawled Leagues off I […]...
11. I Will Praise the Lord at All Times Winter has a joy for me, While the Saviour’s charms I read, Lowly, meek, from blemish free, In the snowdrop’s pensive head. Spring returns, and brings along Life-invigorating suns: Hark! the turtle’s plaintive song Seems to speak His dying groans! Summer has a thousand charms, All expressive of His worth; ‘Tis His sun that lights […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. Epitaph Stop, Christian passer-by : Stop, child of God, And read, with gentle breast. Beneath this sod A poet lies, or that which once seem’d he O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C. That he who many a year with toil of breath Found death in life, may here find life in death […]...
14. The Hard Times In Elfland A Story of Christmas Eve. Strange that the termagant winds should scold The Christmas Eve so bitterly! But Wife, and Harry the four-year-old, Big Charley, Nimblewits, and I, Blithe as the wind was bitter, drew More frontward of the mighty fire, Where wise Newfoundland Fan foreknew The heaven that Christian dogs desire Stretched o’er the […]...
15. An Epitaph On A Child Of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel Weep with me, all you that read This little story; And know, for whom a tear you shed Death’s self is sorry. ‘Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As heaven and nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature. Years he numbered scarce thirteen When fates turned cruel, Yet three […]...
16. By Loe Pool The pool glitters, the fishes leap in the sun With joyous fins, and dive in the pool again; I see the corn in sheaves, and the harvestmen, And the cows coming down to the water one by one. Dragon-flies mailed in lapis and malachite Flash through the bending reeds and blaze on the pool; Sea-ward, […]...
17. Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina GEORGE AUGUSTUS CLOUGH A NATIVE OF LIVERPOOL, DIED SUDDENLY OF “STRANGER’S FEVER” NOV’R 5th 1843 AGED 22 He died of “Stranger’s Fever” when his youth Had scarcely melted into manhood, so The chiselled legend runs; a brother’s woe Laid bare for epitaph. The savage ruth Of a sunny, bright, but alien land, uncouth With cruel […]...
18. The Old Times Were the Best Friends, my heart is half aweary Of its happiness to-night: Though your songs are gay and cheery, And your spirits feather-light, There’s a ghostly music haunting Still the heart of every guest And a voiceless chorus chanting That the Old Times were the best. CHORUS All about is bright and pleasant With the sound of […]...
19. Epitaph For Our Children Blame us for these who were cradled and rocked in our chaos; Watching our sidelong watching, fearing our fear; Playing their blind-man’s-bluff in our gutted mansions, Their follow-my-leader on a stair that ended in air....
20. 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 […]...
21. The Times Are Nightfall The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less; The times are winter, watch, a world undone: They waste, they wither worse; they as they run Or bring more or more blazon man’s distress. And I not help. Nor word now of success: All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one – Work which […]...
22. The Times Table More than halfway up the pass Was a spring with a broken drinking glass, And whether the farmer drank or not His mare was sure to observe the spot By cramping the wheel on a water-bar, Turning her forehead with a star, And straining her ribs for a monster sigh; To which the farmer would […]...
23. Sonnet LVIII: In Former Times In former times such as had store of coin, In wars at home, or when for conquests bound, For fear that some their treasure should purloin, Gave it to keep to spirits within the ground, And to attend it them as strongly tied Till they return’d; home when they never came, Such as by art […]...
24. How many times these low feet staggered How many times these low feet staggered Only the soldered mouth can tell Try can you stir the awful rivet Try can you lift the hasps of steel! Stroke the cool forehead hot so often Lift if you care the listless hair Handle the adamantine fingers Never a thimble more shall wear Buzz the dull […]...
25. I many times thought Peace had come I many times thought Peace had come When Peace was far away As Wrecked Men deem they sight the Land At Centre of the Sea And struggle slacker but to prove As hopelessly as I How many the fictitious Shores Before the Harbor be...
26. Innocence The height of wisdom seems to me That of a child; So let my ageing vision be Serene and mild. The depth of folly, I aver, Is to fish deep In that dark pool of science where Truth-demons sleep. Let me not be a bearded sage Seeing too clear; In issues of the atom age […]...
27. Cassidy's Epitaph Here lies a bloke who’s just gone West, A Number One Australian; He took his gun and did his best To mitigate the alien. So long as he could get to work He needed no sagacity; A German, Austrian, or Turk, Were all the same to Cassidy. Wherever he could raise “the stuff” A liquor […]...
28. Put Off the Wedding Five Times and Nobody Comes to It (Handbook for Quarreling Lovers)I THOUGHT of offering you apothegms. I might have said, “Dogs bark and the wind carries it away.” I might have said, “He who would make a door of gold must knock a nail in every day.” So easy, so easy it would have been to inaugurate a high impetuous moment for […]...
29. Locations and Times LOCATIONS and times-what is it in me that meets them all, whenever and wherever, and makes me at home? Forms, colors, densities, odors-what is it in me that corresponds with them?...
30. A Tombless Epitaph ‘Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blame with praise, And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest friends, Masking his birth-name, wont to character His wild-wood fancy and impetuous zeal,) ‘Tis true that, passionate for ancient truths, And honouring with religious love the Great Of elder times, he hated to excess, With […]...
31. Epitaph on a Hare Here lies, whom hound did ne’er pursue, Nor swiftewd greyhound follow, Whose foot ne’er tainted morning dew, Nor ear heard huntsman’s hallo’, Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Who, nurs’d with tender care, And to domestic bounds confin’d, Was still a wild Jack-hare. Though duly from my hand he took His pittance ev’ry night, He […]...
32. Dream Song 51: Our wounds to time, from all the other times Our wounds to time, from all the other times, Sea-times slow, the times of galaxies Fleeing, the dwarfs’ dead times, Lessen so little that if here in his crude rimes Henry them mentions, do not hold it, please, For a putting of man down. Ol’ Marster, being bound you do your best Versus we coons, […]...
33. An Epitaph Interr’d beneath this marble stone, Lie saunt’ring Jack and idle Joan. While rolling threescore years and one Did round this globe their courses run; If human things went ill or well; If changing empires rose or fell; The morning passed, the evening came, And found this couple still the same. They walk’d and eat, good […]...
34. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
35. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
36. The Voice of the Waters WHERE the Greyhound River windeth through a loneliness so deep, Scarce a wild fowl shakes the quiet that the purple boglands keep, Only God exults in silence over fields no man may reap. Where the silver wave with sweetness fed the tiny lives of grass I was bent above, my image mirrored in the fleeting […]...
37. The Happy Child I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick But not one like the child did pick. I heard the packhounds in green park But no dog like the child heard bark. I heard this day bird after bird But not one like the child has heard. A hundred butterflies saw I But not one like […]...
38. An Epitaph On The Marchioness Of Winchester This rich Marble doth enterr The honour’d Wife of Winchester, A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir, Besides what her vertues fair Added to her noble birth, More then she could own from Earth. Summers three times eight save one She had told, alas too soon, After so short time of breath, To house with darknes, […]...
39. 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 […]...
40. Unknown Girl In A Maternity Ward Child, the current of your breath is six days long. You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed; Lie, fisted like a snail, so small and strong At my breast. Your lips are animals; you are fed With love. At first hunger is not wrong. The nurses nod their caps; you are shepherded Down […]...