Eurydice – To Victor Hugo

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1. Victor Hugo Heart of France for a hundred years, Passionate, sensitive, proud, and strong, Quick to throb with her hopes and fears, Fierce to flame with her sense of wrong! You, who hailed with a morning song Dream-light gilding a throne of old: You, who turned when the dream grew cold, Singing still, to the light that […]...
2. From Victor Hugo Child, were I king, I’d yield my royal rule, My chariot, sceptre, vassal-service due, My crown, my porphyry-basined waters cool, My fleets, whereto the sea is but a pool, For a glance from you! Love, were I God, the earth and its heaving airs, Angels, the demons abject under me, Vast chaos with its teeming […]...
3. The Germ A mighty creature is the germ, Though smaller than the pachyderm. His customary dwelling place Is deep within the human race. His childish pride he often pleases By giving people strange diseases. Do you, my poppet, feel infirm? You probably contain a germ....
4. The Loss Of The Eurydice Foundered March 24. 1878 1 The Eurydice-it concerned thee, O Lord: Three hundred souls, O alas! on board, Some asleep unawakened, all un- Warned, eleven fathoms fallen 2 Where she foundered! One stroke Felled and furled them, the hearts of oak! And flockbells off the aerial Downs’ forefalls beat to the burial. 3 For did […]...
5. Best Things dwell out of Sight Best Things dwell out of Sight The Pearl the Just Our Thought. Most shun the Public Air Legitimate, and Rare The Capsule of the Wind The Capsule of the Mind Exhibit here, as doth a Burr Germ’s Germ be where?...
6. The Victor Dog Bix to Buxtehude to Boulez, The little white dog on the Victor label Listens long and hard as he is able. It’s all in a day’s work, whatever plays. From judgment, it would seem, he has refrained. He even listens earnestly to Bloch, Then builds a church upon our acid rock. He’s man’s no he’s […]...
7. 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 […]...
8. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
9. Non Dolet It does not hurt. She looked along the knife Smiling, and watched the thick drops mix and run Down the sheer blade; not that which had been done Could hurt the sweet sense of the Roman wife, But that which was to do yet ere the strife Could end for each for ever, and the […]...
10. Hugo's "pool in the forest&quot How calm, how beauteous and how cool How like a sister to the skies, Appears the broad, transparent pool That in this quiet forest lies. The sunshine ripples on its face, And from the world around, above, It hath caught down the nameless grace Of such reflections as we love. But deep below its surface […]...
11. Hugo's "flower to butterfly&quot Sweet, bide with me and let my love Be an enduring tether; Oh, wanton not from spot to spot, But let us dwell together. You’ve come each morn to sip the sweets With which you found me dripping, Yet never knew it was not dew But tears that you were sipping. You gambol over honey […]...
12. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
13. An Empty Crib Beside a crib that holds a baby’s stocking, A tattered picture book, a broken toy, A sleeping mother dreams that she is rocking Her fair-haired cherub boy. Upon the cradle’s side her light touch keeping, She gently rocks it, crooning low a song; And smiles to think her little one is sleeping, So peacefully and […]...
14. Recollections I. Years upon years, as a course of clouds that thicken Thronging the ways of the wind that shifts and veers, Pass, and the flames of remembered fires requicken Years upon years. Surely the thought in a man’s heart hopes or fears Now that forgetfulness needs must here have stricken Anguish, and sweetened the sealed-up […]...
15. Those Dancing Days Are Gone Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up In as foul a rag: I carry the sun in a golden cup. The moon in a silver bag. Curse as you may I sing it through; What […]...
16. Storm-Racked How should I sing when buffeting salt waves And stung with bitter surges, in whose might I toss, a cockleshell? The dreadful night Marshals its undefeated dark and raves In brutal madness, reeling over graves Of vanquished men, long-sunken out of sight, Sent wailing down to glut the ghoulish sprite Who haunts foul seaweed forests […]...
17. Sleeping at last Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over, Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past, Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover, Sleeping at last. No more a tired heart downcast or overcast, No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover, Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep […]...
18. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
19. Dogheads AMONG the grassroots In the moonlight, who comes circling, red tongues and high noses? Is one of ’em Buck and one of ’em White Fang? In the moonlight, who are they, cross-legged, telling their stories over and over? Is one of ’em Martin Eden and one of ’em Larsen the Wolf? Let an epitaph read: […]...
20. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
21. The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop upon a Spot As if it tarried always And yet its whole Career Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay And fleeter than a Tare ‘Tis Vegetation’s Juggler The Germ of Alibi Doth like a Bubble […]...
22. Crazy Jane Talks With The Bishop I met the Bishop on the road And much said he and I. ‘Those breasts are flat and fallen now, Those veins must soon be dry; Live in a heavenly mansion, Not in some foul sty.’ ‘Fair and foul are near of kin, And fair needs foul,’ I cried. ‘My friends are gone, but that’s […]...
23. 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 […]...
24. To Walt Whitman In America Send but a song oversea for us, Heart of their hearts who are free, Heart of their singer, to be for us More than our singing can be; Ours, in the tempest at error, With no light but the twilight of terror; Send us a song oversea! Sweet-smelling of pine-leaves and grasses, And blown as […]...
25. Summer See what delights in sylvan scenes appear! Descending Gods have found Elysium here. In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray’d, And chaste Diana haunts the forest shade. Come lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours, When swains from shearing seek their nightly bow’rs; When weary reapers quit the sultry field, And crown’d with corn, their […]...
26. The Hill Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom, and Charley, The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter? All, all, are sleeping on the hill. One passed in a fever, One was burned in a mine, One was killed in a brawl, One died in jail, One fell from a bridge […]...
27. In Harbour I. Goodnight and goodbye to the life whose signs denote us As mourners clothed with regret for the life gone by; To the waters of gloom whence winds of the dayspring float us Goodnight and goodbye. A time is for mourning, a season for grief to sigh; But were we not fools and blind, by […]...
28. Lullaby It is a summer evening. The yellow moths sag Against the locked screens And the faded curtains Suck over the window sills And from another building A goat calls in his dreams. This is the TV parlor In the best ward at Bedlam. The night nurse is passing Out the evening pills. She walks on […]...
29. The Hour of the King WHO would think this quiet breather From the world had taken flight? Yet within the form we see there Wakes the Golden King to-night. Out upon the face of faces He looked forth before his sleep: Now he knows the starry races Haunters of the ancient deep. On the Bird of Diamond Glory Floats in […]...
30. Keep Telling Me It’s 12:34 And I hear them Battering me with a foul message The maddening interpretations The two dots taunting Walk backwards with me and you will see It can be so much cleaner It can be simple Face down they will come for me I can feel this Come death come birth Edge a little […]...
31. Fame is the one that does not stay Fame is the one that does not stay Its occupant must die Or out of sight of estimate Ascend incessantly Or be that most insolvent thing A Lightning in the Germ Electrical the embryo But we demand the Flame...
32. Dawn Opposite me two Germans snore and sweat. Through sullen swirling gloom we jolt and roar. We have been here for ever: even yet A dim watch tells two hours, two aeons, more. The windows are tight-shut and slimy-wet With a night’s foetor. There are two hours more; Two hours to dawn and Milan; two hours […]...
33. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
34. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
35. The Oldest Song “These were never your true love’s eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies, And the wide calm brows above them! This was never your true love’s speech. Why do you thrill when you hear it? You that have ridden out of its reach The width of the […]...
36. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
37. Love's Strategems But these maneuverings to avoid The touching of hands, These shifts to keep the eyes employed On objects more or less neutral (As honor, for time being, commands) Will hardly prevent their downfall. Stronger medicines are needed. Already they find None of their strategems have succeeded, Nor would have, no, Not had their eyes been […]...
38. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
39. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
40. Sin (II) O that I could a sin once see! We paint the devil foul, yet he Hath some good in him, all agree. Sin is flat opposite to th’ Almighty, seeing It wants the good of virtue, and of being. But God more care of us hath had: If apparitions make us sad, By sight of […]...