Harvest Sunset

Related poetry:

1. The Harvest Moon The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upward To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. The harvest moon has come, Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. And the earth replies all night, like a deep […]...
2. Looking For a Sunset Bird in Winter The west was getting out of gold, The breath of air had died of cold, When shoeing home across the white, I thought I saw a bird alight. In summer when I passed the place I had to stop and lift my face; A bird with an angelic gift Was singing in it sweet and […]...
3. The Sunset stopped on Cottages The Sunset stopped on Cottages Where Sunset hence must be For treason not of His, but Life’s, Gone Westerly, Today The Sunset stopped on Cottages Where Morning just begun What difference, after all, Thou mak’st Thou supercilious Sun?...
4. Sunset at Night is natural Sunset at Night is natural But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature Master So Midnight’s due at Noon. Eclipses be predicted And Science bows them in But do one face us suddenly Jehovah’s Watch is wrong....
5. I look at the swaling sunset I look at the swaling sunset And wish I could go also Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar. I wish that I could go Through the red doors where I could put off My shame like shoes in the porch, My pain like garments, And leave my flesh discarded lying Like luggage of […]...
6. Harvest Hymn Mens Voices: LORD of the lotus, lord of the harvest, Bright and munificent lord of the morn! Thine is the bounty that prospered our sowing, Thine is the bounty that nurtured our corn. We bring thee our songs and our garlands for tribute, The gold of our fields and the gold of our fruit; O […]...
7. How the old Mountains drip with Sunset How the old Mountains drip with Sunset How the Hemlocks burn How the Dun Brake is draped in Cinder By the Wizard Sun How the old Steeples hand the Scarlet Till the Ball is full Have I the lip of the Flamingo That I dare to tell? Then, how the Fire ebbs like Billows Touching […]...
8. After Sunset The vast and solemn company of clouds Around the Sun’s death, lit, incarnadined, Cool into ashy wan; as Night enshrouds The level pasture, creeping up behind Through voiceless vales, o’er lawn and purpled hill And hazéd mead, her mystery to fulfil. Cows low from far-off farms; the loitering wind Sighs in the hedge, you hear […]...
9. An ignorance a Sunset An ignorance a Sunset Confer upon the Eye Of Territory Color Circumference Decay Its Amber Revelation Exhilirate Debase Omnipotence’ inspection Of Our inferior face And when the solemn features Confirm in Victory We start as if detected In Immortality...
10. This is the land the Sunset washes This is the land the Sunset washes These are the Banks of the Yellow Sea Where it rose or whither it rushes These are the Western Mystery! Night after Night Her purple traffic Strews the landing with Opal Bales Merchantmen poise upon Horizons Dip and vanish like Orioles!...
11. A Carol of Harvest, for 1867 1 A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms-a song of the soil of fields. A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitchers handle the pitch-fork; A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk’d maize. 2 For the lands, […]...
12. Letter S THE RIVER is gold under a sunset of Illinois. It is a molten gold someone pours and changes. A woman mixing a wedding cake of butter and eggs Knows what the sunset is pouring on the river here. The river twists in a letter S. A gold S now speaks to the Illinois sky....
13. Bring me the sunset in a cup Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps Tell me what time the weaver sleeps Who spun the breadth of blue! Write me how many notes there be In the new Robin’s ecstasy Among astonished boughs How many trips […]...
14. Smoke Smoke, it is all smoke In the throat of eternity. . . . For centuries, the air was full of witches Whistling up chimneys On their spiky brooms Cackling or singing more sweetly than Circe, As they flew over rooftops Blessing & cursing their Kind. We banished & burned them Making them smoke in the […]...
15. A Sunset I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens, Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens, In numerous leafage bosomed close; Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer, Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere On cloudy archipelagos. Oh, gaze ye on the firmament! a […]...
16. Omaha RED barns and red heifers spot the green Grass circles around Omaha-the farmers Haul tanks of cream and wagon loads of cheese. Shale hogbacks across the river at Council Bluffs-and shanties hang by an eyelash to The hill slants back around Omaha. A span of steel ties up the kin of Iowa and Nebraska across […]...
17. The Harvest Sun on the mountain, Shade in the valley, Ripple and lightness Leaping along the world, Sun, like a gold sword Plucked from the scabbard, Striking the wheat-fields, Splendid and lusty, Close-standing, full-headed, Toppling with plenty; Shade, like a buckler Kindly and ample, Sweeping the wheat-fields Darkening and tossing; There on the world-rim Winds break and […]...
18. "I have heard the sunset song of the birches,&quot “I have heard the sunset song of the birches, A white melody in the silence, I have seen a quarrel of the pines. At nightfall The little grasses have rushed by me With the wind men. These things have I lived,” quoth the maniac, “Possessing only eyes and ears. But you You don green spectacles […]...
19. Poems Done on a Late Night Car I. CHICKENS I am The Great White Way of the city: When you ask what is my desire, I answer: “Girls fresh as country wild flowers, With young faces tired of the cows and barns, Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries, Slender supple girls with shapely legs, Lure in the […]...
20. Smoke Rose Gold THE DOME of the capitol looks to the Potomac river. Out of haze over the sunset, Out of a smoke rose gold: One star shines over the sunset. Night takes the dome and the river, the sun and the smoke rose gold, The haze changes from sunset to star. The pour of a thin silver […]...
21. Avon's Harvest Fear, like a living fire that only death Might one day cool, had now in Avon’s eyes Been witness for so long of an invasion That made of a gay friend whom we had known Almost a memory, wore no other name As yet for us than fear. Another man Than Avon might have given […]...
22. Sunset on the Spire All that I dream By day or night Lives in that stream Of lovely light. Here is the earth, And there is the spire; This is my hearth, And that is my fire. From the sun’s dome I am shouted proof That this is my home, And that is my roof. Here is my food, […]...
23. To A Stuffed Shirt On the tide you ride head high, Like a whale ‘mid little fishes; I should envy you as I Help my wife to wash the dishes. Yet frock-coat and stove-pipe hat Cannot hide your folds of fat. You are reckoned a success, And the public praise you win; There’s your picture in the Press, Pouchy […]...
24. Sunset Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors Which it passes to a row of ancient trees. You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you One part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth. Leaving you, not really belonging to either, Not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent, Not […]...
25. From Sunset to Star Rise Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not: I am no summer friend, but wintry cold, A silly sheep benighted from the fold, A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot. Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot, Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold; Lest you with me should shiver on the wold, […]...
26. Under the Harvest Moon Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers. Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With […]...
27. I Hear America Singing I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics-each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in […]...
28. Village in Late Summer LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers....
29. An Autumn Sunset I Leaguered in fire The wild black promontories of the coast extend Their savage silhouettes; The sun in universal carnage sets, And, halting higher, The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats, Like an advancing mob in sword-points penned, That, balked, yet stands at bay. Mid-zenith hangs the fascinated day In wind-lustrated hollows crystalline, A wan […]...
30. Sunset From Omaha Hotel Window INTO the blue river hills The red sun runners go And the long sand changes And to-day is a goner And to-day is not worth haggling over. Here in Omaha The gloaming is bitter As in Chicago Or Kenosha. The long sand changes. To-day is a goner. Time knocks in another brass nail. Another yellow […]...
31. The Times Table More than halfway up the pass Was a spring with a broken drinking glass, And whether the farmer drank or not His mare was sure to observe the spot By cramping the wheel on a water-bar, Turning her forehead with a star, And straining her ribs for a monster sigh; To which the farmer would […]...
32. The Room It is an old story, the way it happens Sometimes in winter, sometimes not. The listener falls to sleep, The doors to the closets of his unhappiness open And into his room the misfortunes come Death by daybreak, death by nightfall, Their wooden wings bruising the air, Their shadows the spilled milk the world cries […]...
33. Palladiums IN the newspaper office-who are the spooks? Who wears the mythic coat invisible? Who pussyfoots from desk to desk with a speaking forefinger? Who gumshoes amid the copy paper with a whispering thumb? Speak softly-the sacred cows may hear. Speak easy-the sacred cows must be fed....
34. Harvest Day is the hero’s shield, Achilles’ field, The light days are the angels. We the seed. Against eternal light and gorgon’s face Day is the shield And we the grass Native to fields of iron, and skies of brass....
35. The Harvest Bow As you plaited the harvest bow You implicated the mellowed silence in you In wheat that does not rust But brightens as it tightens twist by twist Into a knowable corona, A throwaway love-knot of straw. Hands that aged round ashplants and cane sticks And lapped the spurs on a lifetime of game cocks Harked […]...
36. The Harvest Of The Sea The earth grows white with harvest; all day long The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves Her web of silence o’er the thankful song Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves. The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear, And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap; But ever ‘mid the gleaners’ song […]...
37. No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest Sons of the mountains of Scotland, Welshmen of coomb and defile, Breed of the moors of England, Children of Erin’s green isle, We stand four square to the tempest, Whatever the battering hail- No foe shall gather our harvest, Or sit on our stockyard rail. Our women shall walk in honour, Our children shall know […]...
38. Harvest Song I am a reaper whose muscles set at sundown. All my oats are cradled. But I am too chilled, and too fatigued to bind them. And I hunger. I crack a grain between my teeth. I do not taste it. I have been in the fields all day. My throat is dry. I hunger. My […]...
39. Oh fair enough are sky and plain Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are; The pools and rivers wash so clean The trees and clouds and air, The like on earth was never seen, And oh that I were there. These are the thoughts I often think […]...
40. Hurrahing In Harvest Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks arise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies? I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes, Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour; And, éyes, heárt, […]...