Passers-By

Related poetry:

1. Well I Remember How You Smiled Well I remember how you smiled To see me write your name upon The soft sea-sand. . . “O! what a child! You think you’re writing upon stone!” I have since written what no tide Shall ever wash away, what men Unborn shall read o’er ocean wide And find Ianthe’s name again....
2. Poem (The lump of coal my parents teased) The lump of coal my parents teased I’d find in my Christmas stocking Turned out each year to be an orange, For I was their sunshine. Now I have one C. gave me, A dense node of sleeping fire. I keep it where I read and write. “You’re on chummy terms with dread,” It reminds […]...
3. 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 […]...
4. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
5. It Is Much Women of night life amid the lights Where the line of your full, round throats Matches in gleam the glint of your eyes And the ring of your heart-deep laughter: It is much to be warm and sure of to-morrow. Women of night life along the shadows, Lean at your throats and skulking the walls, […]...
6. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
7. Introduction To The Song Of Hiawatha Should you ask me, Whence these stories? Whence these legends and traditions, With the odors of the forest With the dew and damp of meadows, With the curling smoke of wigwams, With the rushing of great rivers, With their frequent repetitions, And their wild reverberations As of thunder in the mountains? I should answer, I […]...
8. The Story Of Our Lives 1 We are reading the story of our lives Which takes place in a room. The room looks out on a street. There is no one there, No sound of anything. The tress are heavy with leaves, The parked cars never move. We keep turning the pages, hoping for something, Something like mercy or change, […]...
9. The Under-Dogs What have we done, Oh Lord, that we Are evil starred? How have we erred and sinned to be So scourged and scarred? Lash us, Oh Lord, with scorpion whips, We can but run; But harken to our piteous lips: What have we done? How have we sinned to rouse your wrath, To earn your […]...
10. THE DAYS GO BY for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want to, want to throw It away like an old worn-out cloak Or screw up like a ball of over-written Trash and toss into the corner bin. I said it must come up or out I […]...
11. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
12. Love Lies Bleeding Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover Roses lean with smiling mouths or pleading: Earth lies laughing where the sun’s dart clove her: Love lies bleeding. Stately shine his purple plumes, exceeding Pride of princes: nor shall maid or lover Find on earth a fairer sign worth heeding. Yet may love, sore wounded scarce recover […]...
13. Emily Sparks Where is my boy, my boy In what far part of the world? The boy I loved best of all in the school? I, the teacher, the old maid, the virgin heart, Who made them all my children. Did I know my boy aright, Thinking of him as a spirit aflame, Active, ever aspiring? Oh, […]...
14. Galoots GALOOTS, you hairy, hankering, Snousle on the bones you eat, chew at the gristle and lick the last of it. Grab off the bones in the paws of other galoots-hook your claws in their sleazy mouths-snap and run. If long-necks sit on their rumps and sing wild cries to the winter moon, chasing their tails […]...
15. Corn Hut Talk WRITE your wishes on the door and come in. Stand outside in the pools of the harvest moon. Bring in the handshake of the pumpkins. There’s a wish for every hazel nut? There’s a hope for every corn shock? There’s a kiss for every clumsy climbing shadow? Clover and the bumblebees once, High winds and […]...
16. An Address to the Rev. George Gilfillan All hail to the Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee, He is the greatest preacher I did ever hear or see. He is a man of genius bright, And in him his congregation does delight, Because they find him to be honest and plain, Affable in temper, and seldom known to complain. He preaches in a […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. THE CRUEL MAID AND, cruel maid, because I see You scornful of my love, and me, I’ll trouble you no more, but go My way, where you shall never know What is become of me; there I Will find me out a path to die, Or learn some way how to forget You and your name for ever; […]...
19. The Missal Makers To visit the Escurial We took a motor bus, And there a guide mercurial Took charge of us. He showed us through room after room, And talked hour after hour, Of place, crypt and royal tomb, Of pomp and power. But in bewilderment of grace What pleased me most of all Were ancient missals proud […]...
20. Tis Sweet to Think Tis sweet to think that, where’er we rove, We are sure to find something blissful and dear, And that, when we’re far from the lips that we love, We’ve but to make love to the lips we are near. The heart, like a tendril, accustom’d to cling, Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish […]...
21. Memorial To D. C (Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is, With hands that wrote you little notes I write you little elegies!...
22. Mr. Philosopher Old Mr. Philosopher Comes for Ben and Claire, An ugly man, a tall man, With bright-red hair. The books that he’s written No one can read. “In fifty years they’ll understand: Now there’s no need. “All that matters now Is getting the fun. Come along, Ben and Claire; Plenty to be done.” Then old Philosopher, […]...
23. Love Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Where that comes in that shall not go again; Love sells the proud heart’s citadel to Fate. They have known shame, who love unloved. Even then, When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking, And agony’s forgot, and hushed the crying Of credulous hearts, […]...
24. L'Escargot D'Or O Tavern of the Golden Snail! Ten sous have I, so I’ll regale; Ten sous your amber brew to sip (Eight for the bock and two the tip), And so I’ll sit the evening long, And smoke my pipe and watch the throng, The giddy crowd that drains and drinks, I’ll watch it quiet as […]...
25. Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
26. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
27. Marginalia Sometimes the notes are ferocious, Skirmishes against the author Raging along the borders of every page In tiny black script. If I could just get my hands on you, Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O’Brien, They seem to say, I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head. Other comments are more offhand, […]...
28. Answered Prayers I prayed for riches, and achieved success; All that I touched turned into gold. Alas! My cares were greater and my peace was less, When that wish came to pass. I prayed for glory, and I heard my name Sung by sweet children and by hoary men. But ah! the hurts – the hurts that […]...
29. The Virgin Mother WHO is that goddess to whom men should pray, But her from whom their hearts have turned away, Out of whose virgin being they were born, Whose mother nature they have named with scorn Calling its holy substance common clay. Yet from this so despised earth was made The milky whiteness of those queens who […]...
30. Try To Remember Some Details Try to remember some details. Remember the clothing Of the one you love So that on the day of loss you’ll be able to say: last seen Wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat. Try to remember some details. For they have no face And their soul is hidden and their crying Is the same as […]...
31. Elizabeth Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so doing Besides my innate love of contradiction; Each poet – if a poet – in pursuing The muses thro’ their bowers […]...
32. The Has-Been A STONE face higher than six horses stood five thousand Years gazing at the world seeming to clutch a secret. A boy passes and throws a niggerhead that chips off the End of the nose from the stone face; he lets fly a Mud ball that spatters the right eye and cheek of the Old […]...
33. The Song Of The Strange Ascetic If I had been a Heathen, I’d have praised the purple vine, My slaves should dig the vineyards, And I would drink the wine. But Higgins is a Heathen, And his slaves grow lean and grey, That he may drink some tepid milk Exactly twice a day. If I had been a Heathen, I’d have […]...
34. 13. Song-Bonie Peggy Alison Chor.-And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet, And I’ll kiss thee o’er again: And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonie Peggy Alison. ILK care and fear, when thou art near I evermair defy them, O! Young kings upon their hansel throne Are no sae blest as I am, O! And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet, […]...
35. Sonnet 38 – First time he kissed me, he but only kissed First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’ When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. […]...
36. Cumulatives STORMS have beaten on this point of land And ships gone to wreck here And the passers-by remember it With talk on the deck at night As they near it. Fists have beaten on the face of this old prize-fighter And his battles have held the sporting pages And on the street they indicate him […]...
37. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
38. A HYMN TO VENUS AND CUPID Sea-born goddess, let me be By thy son thus graced, and thee, That whene’er I woo, I find Virgins coy, but not unkind. Let me, when I kiss a maid, Taste her lips, so overlaid With love’s sirop, that I may In your temple, when I pray, Kiss the altar, and confess There’s in love […]...
39. To the Reader at Parting NOW, dearest comrade, lift me to your face, We must separate awhile-Here! take from my lips this kiss. Whoever you are, I give it especially to you; So long!-And I hope we shall meet again....
40. For a Naughty Little Girl My sweet little girl should be cheerful and mild She must not be fretful and cry! Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child, GOD sees you, who lives in the sky. That dear little face, that I like so to kiss, How alter’d and sad it appears! Do you think I can love you […]...