Baby Face

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1. A London Thoroughfare. 2 A. M They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving river, Barred with silver and black. Cabs go down it, One, And then another. Between them I hear the shuffling of feet. Tramps doze on the window-ledges, Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks. The city is […]...
2. The Human Face I. Soon Of all the springtimes of the world This one is the ugliest Of all of my ways of being To be trusting is the best Grass pushes up snow Like the stone of a tomb But I sleep within the storm And awaken eyes bright Slowness, brief time ends Where all streets must […]...
3. Questions and a Prayer For a New Born Baby So, here you are once more – in a brand new perfect body; An old soul with a brand new life to explore. And my mind is filled with so many things I want to ask you, So many questions that I’ve forgotten the answers to. I don’t want to ask you about your future, […]...
4. Baby Lazarus When I got home I went out into the garden Liking it when the frost bit My old brown boots And dug a hole the size of a baby And buried the clothes I’d bought anyway, just in case. A week later I stood at my window And saw the ground move And swell the […]...
5. Interior IN the cool of the night time The clocks pick off the points And the mainsprings loosen. They will need winding. One of these days… they will need winding. Rabelais in red boards, Walt Whitman in green, Hugo in ten-cent paper covers, Here they stand on shelves In the cool of the night time And […]...
6. Broken-face Gargoyles ALL I can give you is broken-face gargoyles. It is too early to sing and dance at funerals, Though I can whisper to you I am looking for an undertaker humming a lullaby and throwing his feet in a swift and mystic buck-and-wing, now you see it and now you don’t. Fish to swim a […]...
7. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
8. Early Moon THE BABY moon, a canoe, a silver papoose canoe, sails and sails in the Indian west. A ring of silver foxes, a mist of silver foxes, sit and sit around the Indian moon. One yellow star for a runner, and rows of blue stars for more runners, keep a line of watchers. O foxes, baby […]...
9. At Weeping Face WHAT weeping face is that looking from the window? Why does it stream those sorrowful tears? Is it for some burial place, vast and dry? Is it to wet the soil of graves?...
10. Baby's World I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby’s very Own world. I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops Down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows. Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if […]...
11. Baby Vamps BABY vamps, is it harder work than it used to be? Are the new soda parlors worse than the old time saloons? Baby vamps, do you have jobs in the day time or is this all you do? do you come out only at night? In the winter at the skating rinks, in the summer […]...
12. I Dreamed Of Forest Alleys fair I. I DREAMED of forest alleys fair And fields of gray-flowered grass, Where by the yellow summer moon My Jenny seemed to pass. I dreamed the yellow summer moon, Behind a cedar wood, Lay white on fields of rippling grass Where I and Jenny stood. I dreamed – but fallen through my dream, In a […]...
13. Silver Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote […]...
14. The Masked Face I found me in a great surging space, At either end a door, And I said: “What is this giddying place, With no firm-fixéd floor, That I knew not of before?” “It is Life,” said a mask-clad face. I asked: “But how do I come here, Who never wished to come; Can the light and […]...
15. Back Yard Shine on, O moon of summer. Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak, All silver under your rain to-night. An Italian boy is sending songs to you to-night from an accordion. A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month; to-night they are throwing you kisses. An old man […]...
16. Falltime GOLD of a ripe oat straw, gold of a southwest moon, Canada thistle blue and flimmering larkspur blue, Tomatoes shining in the October sun with red hearts, Shining five and six in a row on a wooden fence, Why do you keep wishes on your faces all day long, Wishes like women with half-forgotten lovers […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. Moonlight What time the meanest brick and stone Take on a beauty not their own, And past the flaw of builded wood Shines the intention whole and good, And all the little homes of man Rise to a dimmer, nobler span; When colour’s absence gives escape To the deeper spirit of the shape, Then earth’s great […]...
19. Song of the Moon The moonlight breaks upon the city’s domes, And falls along cemented steel and stone, Upon the grayness of a million homes, Lugubrious in unchanging monotone. Upon the clothes behind the tenement, That hang like ghosts suspended from the lines, Linking each flat to each indifferent, Incongruous and strange the moonlight shines. There is no magic […]...
20. Baby's Way If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment. It is not for nothing that he does not leave us. He loves to rest his head on mother’s bosom, and cannot ever Bear to lose sight of her. Baby know all manner of wise words, though few on earth can Understand […]...
21. River Moons THE DOUBLE moon, one on the high back drop of the west, one on the curve of the river face, The sky moon of fire and the river moon of water, I am taking these home in a basket, hung on an elbow, such a teeny weeny elbow, in my head. I saw them last […]...
22. 237. Song-It is na, Jean, thy Bonie Face IT is na, Jean, thy bonie face, Nor shape that I admire; Altho’ thy beauty and thy grace Might weel awauk desire. Something, in ilka part o’ thee, To praise, to love, I find, But dear as is thy form to me, Still dearer is thy mind. Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae, Nor stronger […]...
23. Night Stuff LISTEN a while, the moon is a lovely woman, a lonely woman, lost in a silver dress, lost in a circus rider’s silver dress. Listen a while, the lake by night is a lonely woman, a lovely woman, circled with birches and pines mixing their green and white among stars shattered in spray clear nights. […]...
24. Mr. Brain Mr Brain was a hermit dwarf who liked to eat shellfish off The moon. He liked to go into a tree then because there is a Little height to see a little further, which may reveal now the Stone, a pebble it is a twig, it is nothing under the moon that You can make […]...
25. Baby Toes THERE is a blue star, Janet, Fifteen years’ ride from us, If we ride a hundred miles an hour. There is a white star, Janet, Forty years’ ride from us, If we ride a hundred miles an hour. Shall we ride To the blue star Or the white star?...
26. Sonnets 07: When I Too Long Have Looked Upon Your Face When I too long have looked upon your face, Wherein for me a brightness unobscured Save by the mists of brightness has its place, And terrible beauty not to be endured, I turn away reluctant from your light, And stand irresolute, a mind undone, A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight From having looked too […]...
27. An Irish Face NOT her own sorrow only that hath place Upon yon gentle face. Too slight have been her childhood’s years to gain The imprint of such pain. It hid behind her laughing hours, and wrought Each curve in saddest thought On brow and lips and eyes. With subtle art It made that little heart Through its […]...
28. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
29. The Basket I The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies White and unspotted, In the round of light thrown by a candle. Puffs of darkness Sweep into The corners, and keep rolling through the room behind his chair. The Air Is silver and pearl, for the night is liquid with moonlight. See how the […]...
30. Portrait of a Baby He lay within a warm, soft world Of motion. Colors bloomed and fled, Maroon and turquoise, saffron, red, Wave upon wave that broke and whirled To vanish in the grey-green gloom, Perspectiveless and shadowy. A bulging world that had no walls, A flowing world, most like the sea, Compassing all infinity Within a shapeless, ebbing […]...
31. Baby Sitter From torrid heat to frigid cold I’ve rovered land and sea; And now, with halting heart I hold My grandchild on my knee: Yet while I’ve eighty years all told, Of moons she has but three. She sleeps, that fragile miniature Of future maidenhood; She will be wonderful, I’m sure, As over her I brood; […]...
32. Baby Charley He’s fast asleep. See how, O Wife, Night’s finger on the lip of life Bids whist the tongue, so prattle-rife, Of busy Baby Charley. One arm stretched backward round his head, Five little toes from out the bed Just showing, like five rosebuds red, So slumbers Baby Charley. Heaven-lights, I know, are beaming through Those […]...
33. The face that launch'd a thousand ships Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is […]...
34. Serenata The night soaks itself Along the shore of the river And in Lolita’s breasts The branches die of love. The branches die of love. Naked the night sings Above the bridges of March. Lolita bathes her body With salt water and roses. The branches die of love. The night of anise and silver Shines over […]...
35. His Own Face Hidden HOKUSAI’S portrait of himself Tells what his hat was like And his arms and legs. The only faces Are a river and a mountain And two laughing farmers. The smile of Hokusai is under his hat....
36. Baby Tortoise You know what it is to be born alone, Baby tortoise! The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell, Not yet awake, And remain lapsed on earth, Not quite alive. A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean. To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would never open, Like some […]...
37. An Autumn Evening Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow And wake among the harps of leafless trees Fantastic runes and mournful melodies. The chilly purple air is threaded through With silver from the rising […]...
38. Frolic THE CHILDREN were shouting together And racing along the sands, A glimmer of dancing shadows, A dovelike flutter of hands. The stars were shouting in heaven, The sun was chasing the moon: The game was the same as the children’s, They danced to the self-same tune. The whole of the world was merry, One joy […]...
39. All Ye Joyful Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together! The wind’s in the tree-top, the wind’s in the heather; The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, And bright are the windows of night in her tower. Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together! Soft is the grass, and let foot be like […]...
40. Shadow March All around the house is the jet-black night; It stares through the window-pane; It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, And it moves with the moving flame. Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum, With the breath of the Bogies in my hair; And all around the candle and the […]...