The Atheist And The Acorn

Related poetry:

1. Introductory Verses Oh, you who read some song that I have sung – What know you of the soul from whence it sprung? Dost dream the poet ever speaks aloud His secret thought unto the listening crowd? Go take the murmuring sea-shell from the shore- You have its shape, its colour – and no more. It tells […]...
2. The Atheist Nor thou, Habib, nor I are glad, When rosy limbs and sweat entwine; But rapture drowns the sense and self, The wine the drawer of the wine, And Him that planted first the grape- O podex, in thy vault there dwells A charm to make the member mad, And shake the marrow of the spine. […]...
3. The Third Epigram. (On an ATHEIST) POsthumus boasts he does not Thunder fear, And for this cause would Innocent appear; That in his Soul no Terrour he does feel, At threatn’d Vultures, or Ixion’s Wheel, Which fright the Guilty: But when Fabius told What Acts ‘gainst Murder lately were enrol’d, ‘Gainst Incest, Rapine, straight upon the Tale His Colour chang’d, and […]...
4. The Village Atheist Ye young debaters over the doctrine Of the soul’s immortality I who lie here was the village atheist, Talkative, contentious, versed in the arguments Of the infidels. But through a long sickness Coughing myself to death I read the Upanishads and the poetry of Jesus. And they lighted a torch of hope and intuition And […]...
5. Foreign Lands Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad in foreign lands. I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before. I saw the dimpling river pass […]...
6. March Elegy I have enough treasures from the past To last me longer than I need, or want. You know as well as I. . . malevolent memory Won’t let go of half of them: A modest church, with its gold cupola Slightly askew; a harsh chorus Of crows; the whistle of a train; A birch tree […]...
7. The Pumpkin Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run, And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold, With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold, Like that which o’er Nineveh’s prophet once grew, While he waited to know that his warning […]...
8. Pods PEA pods cling to stems. Neponset, the village, Clings to the Burlington railway main line. Terrible midnight limiteds roar through Hauling sleepers to the Rockies and Sierras. The earth is slightly shaken And Neponset trembles slightly in its sleep....
9. The Elementary Scene Looking back in my mind I can see The white sun like a tin plate Over the wooden turning of the weeds; The street jerking a wet swing To end by the wall the children sang. The thin grass by the girls’ door, Trodden on, straggling, yellow and rotten, And the gaunt field with its […]...
10. The Unbeliever He sleeps on the top of a mast. – Bunyan He sleeps on the top of a mast With his eyes fast closed. The sails fall away below him Like the sheets of his bed, Leaving out in the air of the night the sleeper’s head. Asleep he was transported there, Asleep he curled In […]...
11. Belisarius I am poor and old and blind; The sun burns me, and the wind Blows through the city gate And covers me with dust From the wheels of the august Justinian the Great. It was for him I chased The Persians o’er wild and waste, As General of the East; Night after night I lay […]...
12. Ah, Moon and Star! Ah, Moon and Star! You are very far But were no one Farther than you Do you think I’d stop For a Firmament Or a Cubit or so? I could borrow a Bonnet Of the Lark And a Chamois’ Silver Boot And a stirrup of an Antelope And be with you Tonight! But, Moon, and […]...
13. Trees In The Garden Ah in the thunder air How still the trees are! And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent Hardly looses even a last breath of perfume. And the ghostly, creamy coloured little tree of leaves White, ivory white among the rambling greens How evanescent, variegated elder, she hesitates on the green grass As if, […]...
14. Psalm 144 part 2 v.3-6 C. M. The vanity of man and condescension of God. Lord, what is man, poor feeble man, Born of the earth at first? His life a shadow, light and vain, Still hasting to the dust. O what is feeble, dying man, Or any of his race, That God should make it his concern To […]...
15. GANYMEDE How, in the light of morning, Round me thou glowest, Spring, thou beloved one! With thousand-varying loving bliss The sacred emotions Born of thy warmth eternal Press ‘gainst my bosom, Thou endlessly fair one! Could I but hold thee clasp’d Within mine arms! Ah! upon thy bosom Lay I, pining, And then thy flowers, thy […]...
16. Adlestrop Yes, I remember Adlestrop The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left and no one came On the bare platform. What I saw Was Adlestrop only the name And willows, willow-herb, and grass, And meadowsweet, and […]...
17. Sonnet LVI FAyre ye be sure, but cruell and vnkind, As is a Tygre that with greedinesse Hunts after bloud, when he by chance doth find A feeble beast, doth felly him oppresse. Fayre be ye sure but proud and pittilesse, As is a storme, that all things doth prostrate: Finding a tree alone all comfortlesse, Beats […]...
18. Dow Kritt Samuel is forever talking of his elm But I did not need to die to learn about roots: I, who dug all the ditches about Spoon River. Look at my elm! Sprung from as good a seed as his, Sown at the same time, It is dying at the top: Not from lack of life, […]...
19. Malade The sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie prone; at the window The tassel of the blind swings gently, tapping the pane, As a little wind comes in. The room is the hollow rind of a fruit, a gourd Scooped out and dry, where a spider, Folded in its legs as in a […]...
20. Parousia Love of my life, you Are lost and I am Young again. A few years pass. The air fills With girlish music; In the front yard The apple tree is Studded with blossoms. I try to win you back, That is the point Of the writing. But you are gone forever, As in Russian novels, […]...
21. TO GROVES Ye silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth wear; Who for some sweet-heart’s sake, did prove The fire and martyrdom of Love: Here is the legend of those saints That died for love, and their complaints; Their wounded hearts, and names we find Encarved upon the leaves and rind. Give […]...
22. The Eagle, The Sow, And The Cat THE Queen of Birds, t’encrease the Regal Stock, Had hatch’d her young Ones in a stately Oak, Whose Middle-part was by a Cat possest, And near the Root with Litter warmly drest, A teeming Sow had made her peaceful Nest. (Thus Palaces are cramm’d from Roof to Ground, And Animals, as various, in them found.) […]...
23. I know Suspense it steps so terse I know Suspense it steps so terse And turns so weak away Besides Suspense is neighborly When I am riding by Is always at the Window Though lately I descry And mention to my Horses The need is not of me...
24. The First Thrush Though leaves have fallen long since, The wagtails flirt and flit, Glad in the morning sun; While, on the knotted quince, The dewdrops, pearled on it, Bead to a little run. . . . Soft as a breathing air There came a lovely sound Out of the branches bare; So rich it was, and round, […]...
25. Tawny THESE are the tawny days: your face comes back. The grapes take on purple: the sunsets redden early on the trellis. The bashful mornings hurl gray mist on the stripes of sunrise. Creep, silver on the field, the frost is welcome. Run on, yellow balls on the hills, and you tawny pumpkin flowers, chasing your […]...
26. The Speed Of Light So gradual in those summers was the going of the age it seemed that the long days setting out When the stars faded over the mountains were not leaving us even as the birds woke in full song and the dew Glittered in the webs it appeared then that the clear morning opening into the […]...
27. Fleeing Away My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar, Higher and higher on soul-lent wings; But ever and often and more and more They are dragged down earthward by little things, By little troubles and little needs, As a lark might be tangled among the weeds. My purpose is not what it ought to be, […]...
28. The Author to her Book Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth did’st by my side remain, Till snatcht from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad expos’d to public view, Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge, Where errors were not lessened (all may judge). At thy return my blushing […]...
29. Song of the Little White Girl Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter? Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter? Because it is just a white baby you see, And it’s the black ones you like, cabbage tree? Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you’re a strange fellow With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow. Wouldn’t you like to […]...
30. Cherry – Tree Inn The rafters are open to sun, moon, and star, Thistles and nettles grow high in the bar The chimneys are crumbling, the log fires are dead, And green mosses spring from the hearthstone instead. The voices are silent, the bustle and din, For the railroad hath ruined the Cherry-tree Inn. Save the glimmer of stars, […]...
31. We miss Her, not because We see We miss Her, not because We see The Absence of an Eye Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society As slightly as the Routes of Stars Ourselves asleep below We know that their superior Eyes Include Us as they go...
32. LETTER FROM KIRKHEATON I have no camera but imagination’s tinted glass I cannot pass this crumbling dry stone wall Without a break to catch the vistas of the chain of Pennine hills That splash their shades of colour like mercury in the rising glass. The June sun focuses upon the vivid grass, The elder’s pale amber, the Victoria […]...
33. Insufficiency When I attain to utter forth in verse Some inward thought, my soul throbs audibly Along my pulses, yearning to be free And something farther, fuller, higher, rehearse To the individual, true, and the universe, In consummation of right harmony: But, like a wind-exposed distorted tree, We are blown against for ever by the curse […]...
34. On the Death of a Young Gentleman Who taught thee conflict with the pow’rs of night, To vanquish satan in the fields of light? Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown, How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown! War with each princedom, throne, and pow’r is o’er, The scene is ended to return no more. O could my muse […]...
35. Misconceptions This is a spray the Bird clung to, Making it blossom with pleasure, Ere the high tree-top she sprung to, Fit for her nest and her treasure. Oh, what a hope beyond measure Was the poor spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,- So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! This is […]...
36. PROXIMITY I KNOW not, wherefore, dearest love, Thou often art so strange and coy When ‘mongst man’s busy haunts we move, Thy coldness puts to flight my joy. But soon as night and silence round us reign, I know thee by thy kisses sweet again! 1789.*...
37. This Is A Poem I Wrote At Night, Before The Dawn This is a poem I wrote before I died and was reborn: – After the years of the apples ripening and the eagles soaring, After the festival here the small flowers gleamed like the first stars, And the horses cantered and romped away like the experience of skill; mastered and serene Power, grasped and governed […]...
38. The Self and the Mulberry I wanted to see the self, so I looked at the mulberry. It had no trouble accepting its limits, Yet defining and redefining a small area So that any shape was possible, any movement. It stayed put, but was part of all the air. I wanted to learn to be there and not there Like […]...
39. The Super When I was with a Shakespeare show I played the part of Guildenstern, Or Rosenkrantz – at least I know It wasn’t difficult to learn; By Reader, do not at me scoff, For futhermore I should explain I was the understudy of The understudy of the Dane. Oh how it crabbed me just to think […]...
40. Beauty WHAT does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease, No man, woman, or child alive could please Me now. And yet I almost dare to laugh Because I sit and frame an epitaph “Here lies all that no one loved of him And that loved no one.” Then in a trice that whim Has […]...