Old

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1. Consorting With Angels I was tired of being a woman, Tired of the spoons and the post, Tired of my mouth and my breasts, Tired of the cosmetics and the silks. There were still men who sat at my table, Circled around the bowl I offered up. The bowl was filled with purple grapes And the flies hovered […]...
2. French Leave No servile little fear shall daunt my will This morning. I have courage steeled to say I will be lazy, conqueringly still, I will not lose the hours in toil this day. The roaring world without, careless of souls, Shall leave me to my placid dream of rest, My four walls shield me from its […]...
3. Little Viennese Waltz In Vienna there are ten little girls, A shoulder for death to cry on, And a forest of dried pigeons. There is a fragment of tomorrow In the museum of winter frost. There is a thousand-windowed dance hall. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this close-mouthed waltz. Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz, Of itself of […]...
4. Child and mother O mother-my-love, if you’ll give me your hand, And go where I ask you to wander, I will lead you away to a beautiful land, The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder. We’ll walk in a sweet posie-garden out there, Where moonlight and starlight are streaming, And the flowers and the birds are filling the air […]...
5. Gargoyle I SAW a mouth jeering. A smile of melted red iron ran over it. Its laugh was full of nails rattling. It was a child’s dream of a mouth. A fist hit the mouth: knuckles of gun-metal driven by an electric wrist and shoulder. It was a child’s dream of an arm. The fist hit […]...
6. My Heart and I I. ENOUGH! we’re tired, my heart and I. We sit beside the headstone thus, And wish that name were carved for us. The moss reprints more tenderly The hard types of the mason’s knife, As heaven’s sweet life renews earth’s life With which we’re tired, my heart and I. II. You see we’re tired, my […]...
7. His Dream I swayed upon the gaudy stem The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crowd upon a shore. And though I would have hushed the crowd, There was no mother’s son but said, “What is the figure in a shroud Upon a gaudy bed?’ And after running at the brim Cried […]...
8. The Dream Called Life From the Spanish of Pedro Calderon de la Barca A dream it was in which I found myself. And you that hail me now, then hailed me king, In a brave palace that was all my own, Within, and all without it, mine; until, Drunk with excess of majesty and pride, Methought I towered so […]...
9. 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 […]...
10. Lying In Grass Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers, And the down colors of the bright summer meadow, The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees’ song, Is this everything only a god’s Groaning dream, The cry of unconscious powers for deliverance? The distant line of the mountain, That beautifully and courageously rests in the […]...
11. Oh! Arranmore, Loved Arranmore Oh! Arranmore, loved Arranmore, How oft I dream of thee, And of those days when, by thy shore, I wander’d young and free. Full many a path I’ve tried, since then, Through pleasure’s flowery maze, But ne’er could find the bliss again I felt in those sweet days. How blithe upon thy breezy cliffs At […]...
12. Story Tired of a landscape known too well when young: The deliberate shallow hills, the boring birds Flying past rocks; tired of remembering The village children and their naughty words, He abandoned his small holding and went South, Recognised at once his wished-for lie In the inhabitants’ attractive mouth, The church beside the marsh, the hot […]...
13. A Farewell I My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey: Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. II Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And […]...
14. Lover's Gifts IV: She Is Near to My Heart She is near to my heart as the meadow-flower to the earth; she is Sweet to me as sleep is to tired limbs. My love for her is my life Flowing in its fullness, like a river in autumn flood, running with Serene abandonment. My songs are one with my love, like the murmur Of […]...
15. The End of the Day To B. T. Dead-tired, dog-tired, as the vivid day Fails and slackens and fades away. The sky that was so blue before With sudden clouds is shrouded o’er. Swiftly, stilly the mists uprise, Till blurred and grey the landscape lies. * * * * * * * All day we have plied the oar; all […]...
16. Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disablèd And art made tongue-tied by authority, And […]...
17. Sonnet LXVI Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm’d in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And […]...
18. To Sylvia Plath Sleepwalking she prepared breakfast For her still dreaming children, before Breaking fast, to satisfy her appetite No fire needed, she all-consuming flame Bravely cowered on the kitchen floor And slaked an antique thirst on vapor Laying her dream-tormented head to rest She took premature or belated leave, set Out to sea, having found no harbor […]...
19. 243. Elegy on the Year 1788 FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn, E’en let them die-for that they’re born: But oh! prodigious to reflec’! A Towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck! O Eighty-eight, in thy sma’ space, What dire events hae taken place! Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us! In what a pickle thou has left us! The Spanish […]...
20. Romance To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed, Scented and warm against my beating breast; To whisper soft and quivering your name, And drink the passion burning in your frame; To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek, And tease your mouth with kisses till you speak Love words, mad words, dream […]...
21. She Dried Her Tears She dried her tears and they did smile To see her cheeks’ returning glow How little dreaming all the while That full heart throbbed to overflow With that sweet look and lively tone And bright eye shining all the day They could not guess at midnight lone How she would weep the time away...
22. A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies […]...
23. A Happy Man When these graven lines you see, Traveller, do not pity me; Though I be among the dead, Let no mournful word be said. Children that I leave behind, And their children, all were kind; Near to them and to my wife, I was happy all my life. My three sons I married right, And their […]...
24. Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain, While rainy evening drips to misty night, And misty night to cloudy morning clears, And clouds disperse across the gathering light, And […]...
25. A Curse Against Elegies Oh, love, why do we argue like this? I am tired of all your pious talk. Also, I am tired of all the dead. They refuse to listen, So leave them alone. Take your foot out of the graveyard, They are busy being dead. Everyone was always to blame: The last empty fifth of booze, […]...
26. The Play I am the only actor. It is difficult for one woman To act out a whole play. The play is my life, My solo act. My running after the hands And never catching up. (The hands are out of sight – That is, offstage.) All I am doing onstage is running, Running to keep up, […]...
27. The Art Of Poetry To gaze at a river made of time and water And remember Time is another river. To know we stray like a river And our faces vanish like water. To feel that waking is another dream That dreams of not dreaming and that the death We fear in our bones is the death That every […]...
28. Long highway blues highway dancing During a long day Of running My thumb, Carrying me nowhere Grew tired, A sunset and beauty Carved the sky Her eyes and hair A tattoo upon my soul Wouldn’t let go I had nowhere to run And so, Highway dancing And nowhere To call home. Walking the long black road Alone Believing […]...
29. Halsted Street Car COME you, cartoonists, Hang on a strap with me here At seven o’clock in the morning On a Halsted street car. Take your pencils And draw these faces. Try with your pencils for these crooked faces, That pig-sticker in one corner his mouth That overall factory girl her loose cheeks. Find for your pencils A […]...
30. Nimium Fortunatus I have lain in the sun I have toil’d as I might, I have thought as I would, And now it is night. My bed full of sleep, My heart full of content For friends that I met The way that I went. I welcome fatigue While frenzy and care Like thin summer clouds Go […]...
31. Running To Paradise As I came over Windy Gap They threw a halfpenny into my cap. For I am running to paradise; And all that I need do is to wish And somebody puts his hand in the dish To throw me a bit of salted fish: And there the king is but as the beggar. My brother […]...
32. Answers Why did you travel? Because the house was cold. Why did you travel? Because it is what I have always done between sunset and sunrise. What did you wear? I wore a blue suit, a white shirt, yellow tie, and yellow socks. What did you wear? I wore nothing. A scarf of pain kept me […]...
33. The Lady Visitor in the Pauper Ward Why do you break upon this old, cool peace, This painted peace of ours, With harsh dress hissing like a flock of geese, With garish flowers? Why do you churn smooth waters rough again, Selfish old skin-and-bone? Leave us to quiet dreaming and slow pain, Leave us alone....
34. Sadness and Joy I pray you, Sadness, leave me soon, In sweet invention thou art poor! Thy sister, Joy can make ten songs While thou art making four. One hour with thee is sweet enough; But when we find the whole day gone And no created thing is left We mourn the evil done. Thou art too slow […]...
35. A Smuggler's Song If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet, Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street. Them that ask no questions isn’t told a lie. Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark Brandy for the Parson, ‘Baccy for the […]...
36. Lover's Gifts LII: Tired of Waiting Tired of waiting, you burst your bonds, impatient flowers, before The winter had gone. Glimpses of the unseen comer reached your Wayside watch, and you rushed out running and panting, impulsive Jasmines, troops of riotous roses. You were the first to march to the breach of death, your Clamour of colour and perfume troubled the […]...
37. When Death Comes When death comes Like the hungry bear in autumn; When death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse To buy me, and snaps the purse shut; When death comes Like the measle-pox When death comes Like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, […]...
38. The Fury Of Sunrises Darkness As black as your eyelid, Poketricks of stars, The yellow mouth, The smell of a stranger, Dawn coming up, Dark blue, No stars, The smell of a love, Warmer now As authenic as soap, Wave after wave Of lightness And the birds in their chains Going mad with throat noises, The birds in their […]...
39. Summer Nights Lamoni, Iowa The factory siren tells workers time to go home Tells them the evening has begun. When living with the tall man Whom I didn’t love, I would wander The streets, dreaming of Italy. Trekking the handful of avenues With him, he would say look there Between pink cobblestones, There’s manure like mortar. The […]...
40. A Supermarket In California What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whit – Man, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees With a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of Your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Whole fam […]...