Emmy

Related poetry:

1. The Withering Of The Boughs I cried when the moon was mutmuring to the birds: ‘Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will, I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words, For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind.’ The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill, And I fell asleep […]...
2. Little Birds Little Birds are dining Warily and well, Hid in mossy cell: Hid, I say, by waiters Gorgeous in their gaiters – I’ve a Tale to tell. Little Birds are feeding Justices with jam, Rich in frizzled ham: Rich, I say, in oysters Haunting shady cloisters – That is what I am. Little Birds are teaching […]...
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. Martha “Once…Once upon a time…” Over and over again, Martha would tell us her stories, In the hazel glen. Hers were those clear gray eyes You watch, and the story seems Told by their beautifulness Tranquil as dreams. She’d sit with her two slim hands Clasped round her bended knees; While we on our elbows lolled, […]...
5. Villanelle Of Spring Bells Bells in the town alight with spring Converse, with a concordance of new airs Make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. People emerge from winter to hear them ring, Children glitter with mischief and the blind man hears Bells in the town alight with spring. Even he on his eyes feels the caressing […]...
6. May Miracle On this festive first of May, Wending wistfully my way Three sad sights I saw today. The first was such a lovely lad He lit with grace the sordid street; Yet in a monk’s robe he was clad, With tonsured head and sandalled feet. Though handsome as a movie star His eyes had holiness in […]...
7. Answer THE WARMTH of life is quenched with bitter frost; Upon the lonely road a child limps by Skirting the frozen pools: our way is lost: Our hearts sink utterly. But from the snow-patched moorland chill and drear, Lifting our eyes beyond the spirëd height, With white-fire lips apart the dawn breathes clear Its soundless hymn […]...
8. All In The Golden Afternoon All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain pretense Our wanderings to guide. Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour, Beneath such dreamy weather, To beg a tale of breath too weak To stir the tiniest feather! […]...
9. A Child's Laughter ALL the bells of heaven may ring, All the birds of heaven may sing, All the wells on earth may spring, All the winds on earth may bring All sweet sounds together – Sweeter far than all things heard, Hand of harper, tone of bird, Sound of woods at sundawn stirred, Welling water’s winsome word, […]...
10. When and Why When I bring you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there Is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are Painted in tints-when I give coloured toys to you, my child. When I sing to make you dance, I truly know why there is music In leaves, and why […]...
11. Cold cold world in the night The deep deep night Do i dance Where mirror images Are lost within I bleed across The shattered hopes The ice reflections Would you That a child Might live, Without seeing their eyes Without hearing their cries Black in light Am i wandering In dreams Where only Shadows dance Oh, This cold […]...
12. Daft In the warm yellow smile of the morning, She stands at the lattice pane, And watches the strong young binders Stride down to the fields of grain. And she counts them over and over As they pass her cottage door: Are they six, she counts them seven; Are they seven, she counts one more. When […]...
13. Colored Toys When I bring to you colored toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water, And why flowers are painted in tints – when I give colored toys to you, my child. When I sing to make you dance I truly now why there is music in […]...
14. The Answer A Rose, in tatters on the garden path, Cried out to God and murmured ‘gainst His Wrath, Because a sudden wind at twilight’s hush Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush. And God, Who hears both sun-dried dust and sun, Had pity, whispering to that luckless one, “Sister, in that thou sayest We […]...
15. A Subaltern He turned to me with his kind, sleepy gaze And fresh face slowly brightening to the grin That sets my memory back to summer days, With twenty runs to make, and last man in. He told me he’d been having a bloody time In trenches, crouching for the crumps to burst, While squeaking rats scampered […]...
16. Dance Me To The End Of Love Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love Dance me to the end of love Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone […]...
17. If I were dead ‘IF I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’ The dear lips quiver’d as they spake, And the tears brake From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled. Poor Child, poor Child! I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song. It is not true that Love will do no wrong. Poor Child! […]...
18. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
19. Among School Children I I walk through the long schoolroom questioning; A kind old nun in a white hood replies; The children learn to cipher and to sing, To study reading-books and histories, To cut and sew, be neat in everything In the best modern way – the children’s eyes In momentary wonder stare upon A sixty-year-old smiling […]...
20. God Gave To Me A Child In Part GOD gave to me a child in part, Yet wholly gave the father’s heart: Child of my soul, O whither now, Unborn, unmothered, goest thou? You came, you went, and no man wist; Hapless, my child, no breast you kist; On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb, Nor knew the kindly feel of home. […]...
21. Sonnet 33 – Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear The name I used to run at, when a child, From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled, To glance up in some face that proved me dear With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled Into […]...
22. Magellanic Penguin Neither clown nor child nor black Nor white but verticle And a questioning innocence Dressed in night and snow: The mother smiles at the sailor, The fisherman at the astronaunt, But the child child does not smile When he looks at the bird child, And from the disorderly ocean The immaculate passenger Emerges in snowy […]...
23. I Like For You To Be Still I like for you to be still It is as though you are absent And you hear me from far away And my voice does not touch you It seems as though your eyes had flown away And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth As all things are filled with my soul […]...
24. Resolve Build on resolve, and not upon regret, The structure of thy future. Do not grope Among the shadows of old sins, but let Thine own soul’s light shine on the path of hope And dissipate the darkness. Waste no tears Upon the blotted record of lost years, But turn the leaf, and smile, oh! smile, […]...
25. Lines Inscribed on The Wall of a Dungeon in The Southern P of I Though not a breath can enter here, I know the wind blows fresh and free; I know the sun is shining clear, Though not a gleam can visit me. They thought while I in darkness lay, ‘Twere pity that I should not know How all the earth is smiling gay; How fresh the vernal breezes […]...
26. Modernities Small knowledge have we that by knowledge met May not some day be quaint as any told In almagest or chronicle of old, Whereat we smile because we are as yet The last-though not the last who may forget What cleavings and abrasions manifold Have marked an armor that was never scrolled Before for human […]...
27. The Old Poet I will be glad because it is the Spring; I will forget the winter in my heart Dead hopes and withered promise; and will wring A little joy from life ere life depart. For spendthrift youth with passion-blinded eyes, Stays not to see how woods and fields are bright; He hears the phantom voices call, […]...
28. The Wilderness I came too late to the hills: they were swept bare Winters before I was born of song and story, Of spell or speech with power of oracle or invocation, The great ash long dead by a roofless house, its branches rotten, The voice of the crows an inarticulate cry, And from the wells and […]...
29. The Water Nymphs They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer, Laughing amain when I feign to depart; Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer- Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet. Are they Nymphs of the Stream at their playing Or but the brook I mistook for a voice? Little care I; for, […]...
30. The Divine Lullaby I hear Thy voice, dear Lord; I hear it by the stormy sea When winter nights are black and wild, And when, affright, I call to Thee; It calms my fears and whispers me, “Sleep well, my child.” I hear Thy voice, dear Lord, In singing winds, in falling snow, The curfew chimes, the midnight […]...
31. Fleurette (The Wounded Canadian Speaks) My leg? It’s off at the knee. Do I miss it? Well, some. You see I’ve had it since I was born; And lately a devilish corn. (I rather chuckle with glee To think how I’ve fooled that corn.) But I’ll hobble around all right. It isn’t that, it’s my face. […]...
32. The wanderer Upon a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Ah, who can say Whether there dropped by some too careless […]...
33. Age and Youth WE have left our youth behind: Earth is in its baby years: Void of wisdom cries the wind, And the sunlight knows no tears. When shall twilight feel the awe, All the rapt thought of the sage, And the lips of wind give law Drawn from out their lore of age? When shall earth begin […]...
34. The Mother Poem (two) I always wanted to give birth Do that incredible natural thing That women do-I nearly broke down When I heard we couldn’t And then my man said to me Well there’s always adoption (we didn’t have test tubes and the rest Then) and well even in the early sixties there was something Scandalous about adopting […]...
35. Wallflower Till midnight her needle she plied To finish her pretty pink dress; “Oh, bless you, my darling,” she sighed; “I hope you will be a success.” As she entered the Oddfellow’s Hall With the shy thrill of maiden romance She felt like the belle of the Ball, But. . . nobody asked her to dance. […]...
36. Tz'u No. 11 To the tune of “Lamentation” It was far into the night when, intoxicated, I took off my ornaments; The plum flower withered in my hair. Recovered from tipsiness, The lingering smell of wine Broke my fond dream Before my dreaming soul could find My way home. All is quiet. The moon lingers, And the emerald […]...
37. Colin Instructed Young Colin was as stout a boy As ever gave a maiden joy; But long in vain he told his tale To black-eyed Biddy of the Dale. Ah why, the whining shepherd cried, Am I alone your smiles denied? I only tell in vain my tale To black-eyed Biddy of the Dale. True Colin, said […]...
38. My Land and I They have eaten their fill at your tables spread, Like friends since the land was won; And they rise with a cry of “Australia’s dead!” With the wheeze of “Australia’s done!” Oh, the theme is stale, but they tell the tale (How the weak old tale will keep!) Like the crows that croak on a […]...
39. Love Calls Us To The Things Of This World The eyes open to a cry of pulleys, And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple As false dawn. Outside the open window The morning air is all awash with angels. Some are in bed-sheets, some are in blouses, Some are in smocks: but truly there they are. Now […]...
40. There are Days There are days when One should be able To pluck off one’s head Like a dented or worn Helmet, straight from The nape and collarbone (those crackling branches!) And place it firmly down In the bed of a flowing stream. Clear, clean, chill currents Coursing and spuming through The sour and stale compartments Of the […]...