Potomac Town in February

Related poetry:

1. Potomac River Mist ALL the policemen, saloonkeepers and efficiency experts in Toledo knew Bern Dailey; secretary ten years when Whitlock was mayor. Pickpockets, yeggs, three card men, he knew them all and how they flit from zone to zone, birds of wind and weather, singers, fighters, scavengers. The Washington monument pointed to a new moon for us and […]...
2. The Town Down by the River I Said the Watcher by the Way To the young and the unladen, To the boy and to the maiden, “God be with you both to-day. First your song came ringing, Now you come, you two Knowing naught of what you do, Or of what your dreams are bringing. “O you children who go singing […]...
3. The Return From Town As I sat down by Saddle Stream To bathe my dusty feet there, A boy was standing on the bridge Any girl would meet there. As I went over Woody Knob And dipped into the hollow, A youth was coming up the hill Any maid would follow. Then in I turned at my own gate,- […]...
4. In Memory of a Happy Day in February Blessed be Thou for all the joy My soul has felt today! O let its memory stay with me And never pass away! I was alone, for those I loved Were far away from me, The sun shone on the withered grass, The wind blew fresh and free. Was it the smile of early spring […]...
5. February: Thinking of Flowers Now wind torments the field, Turning the white surface back On itself, back and back on itself, Like an animal licking a wound. Nothing but white the air, the light; Only one brown milkweed pod Bobbing in the gully, smallest Brown boat on the immense tide. A single green sprouting thing Would restore me. . […]...
6. By Broad Potomac's Shore 1 BY broad Potomac’s shore-again, old tongue! (Still uttering-still ejaculating-canst never cease this babble?) Again, old heart so gay-again to you, your sense, the full flush spring returning; Again the freshness and the odors-again Virginia’s summer sky, pellucid blue and silver, Again the forenoon purple of the hills, Again the deathless grass, so noiseless, soft […]...
7. February Begin, my muse, the imitative lay, Aonian doxies sound the thrumming string; Attempt no number of the plaintive Gay, Let me like midnight cats, or Collins sing. If in the trammels of the doleful line The bounding hail, or drilling rain descend; Come, brooding Melancholy, pow’r divine, And ev’ry unform’d mass of words amend. Now […]...
8. February: The Boy Breughel The birches stand in their beggar’s row: Each poor tree Has had its wrists nearly Torn from the clear sleeves of bone, These icy trees Are hanging by their thumbs Under a sun That will begin to heal them soon, Each will climb out Of its own blue, oval mouth; The river groans, Two birds […]...
9. February 23 Light rain is falling in Central Park But not on Upper Fifth Avenue or Central Park West Where sun and sky are yellow and blue Winds are gusting on Washington Square Through the arches and on to LaGuardia Place But calm is the corner of 8th Street and Second Avenue Which reminds me of something […]...
10. AFTERNOON IN FEBRUARY The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes The red sun flashes On village windows That glimmer red. The snow recommences; The buried fences Mark no longer The road o’er the plain; While through the meadows, Like fearful shadows, Slowly passes A funeral train. […]...
11. The Drunkards in the Street The Drunkards in the street are calling one another, Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, – Publicans and wantons – Calling, laughing, calling, While the Spirit bloweth Space and Time away. Why should I feel the sobbing, the secrecy, the glory, This comforter, this fitful wind divine? I the cautious Pharisee, the […]...
12. A Calendar of Sonnets: February Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white; And reigns the winter’s pregnant silence still; No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill, And willow stems grow daily red and bright. These are days when ancients held a rite Of expiation for the old year’s ill, And prayer to purify the new year’s will: […]...
13. How Much? HOW much do you love me, a million bushels? Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a lot more. And to-morrow maybe only half a bushel? To-morrow maybe not even a half a bushel. And is this your heart arithmetic? This is the way the wind measures the weather....
14. Images of snow – february 1996 snow is a thousand flowers The chinese probably said Hundreds and thousands this morning Drop their garlands on my head Last night the festoons started Long before we went to bed Snow is a white-furred rabbit The chinese probably wrote Hedgerows and fields this morning Wear a similar fluffy coat Last night the winter danced […]...
15. A Voice from the Town I thought, in the days of the droving, Of steps I might hope to retrace, To be done with the bush and the roving And settle once more in my place. With a heart that was well nigh to breaking, In the long, lonely rides on the plain, I thought of the pleasure of taking […]...
16. Pencils PENCILS Telling where the wind comes from open a story. Pencils Telling where the wind goes end a story. These eager pencils Come to a stop .. only.. when the stars high over Come to a stop. Out of cabalistic to-morrows Come cryptic babies calling life A strong and a lovely thing. I have seen […]...
17. A Letter from Artemesia in the Town to Chloe in the Country Chloe, In verse by your command I write. Shortly you’ll bid me ride astride, and fight: These talents better with our sex agree Than lofty flights of dangerous poetry. Amongst the men, I mean the men of wit (At least they passed for such before they writ), How many bold adventureers for the bays, Proudly […]...
18. Town Owl On eves of cold, when slow coal fires, Rooted in basements, burn and branch, Brushing with smoke the city air; When quartered moons pale in the sky, And neons glow along the dark Like deadly nightshade on a briar; Above the muffled traffic then I hear the owl, and at his note I shudder in […]...
19. Out of Town Out of town the sky was bright and blue, Never fog-cloud, lowering, thick, was seen to frown; Nature dons a garb of gayer hue, Out of town. Spotless lay the snow on field and down, Pure and keen the air above it blew; All wore peace and beauty for a crown. London sky, marred by […]...
20. Spring in Town The country ever has a lagging Spring, Waiting for May to call its violets forth, And June its roses showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o’er the earth; To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back. Within the city’s bounds the time of flowers […]...
21. We Go Out Together In the Staring Town We go out together into the staring town And buy cheese and bread and little jugs with Flowered labels Everywhere is a tent where we put on our whirling Show A great deal has been said of the handless serpents Which war has set loose in the gay milk of our Heads But because you […]...
22. Emptying Town I want to erase your footprints From my walls. Each pillow Is thick with your reasons. Omens Fill the sidewalk below my window: a woman In a party hat, clinging To a tin-foil balloon. Shadows Creep slowly across the tar, someone yells, “Stop!” And I close my eyes. I can’t watch As this town slowly […]...
23. The Town Between the Hills The further the little girl leaped and ran, The further she longed to be; The white, white fields of jonquil flowers Danced up as high as her knee And flashed and sparkled before her eyes Until she could hardly see. So into the wood went she. It was quiet in the wood, It was solemn […]...
24. 517. Song-O wat ye wha's in yon town Chorus-O wat ye wha’s in yon town, Ye see the e’enin sun upon, The dearest maid’s in yon town, That e’ening sun is shining on. NOW haply down yon gay green shaw, She wanders by yon spreading tree; How blest ye flowers that round her blaw, Ye catch the glances o’ her e’e! O wat […]...
25. Pigeon THE FLUTTER of blue pigeon’s wings Under a river bridge Hunting a clean dry arch, A corner for a sleep- This flutters here in a woman’s hand. A singing sleep cry, A drunken poignant two lines of song, Somebody looking clean into yesterday And remembering, or looking clean into To-morrow, and reading,- This sings here […]...
26. Town and Country Here, where love’s stuff is body, arm and side Are stabbing-sweet ‘gainst chair and lamp and wall. In every touch more intimate meanings hide; And flaming brains are the white heart of all. Here, million pulses to one centre beat: Closed in by men’s vast friendliness, alone, Two can be drunk with solitude, and meet […]...
27. The Town Marshal The Prohibitionists made me Town Marshal When the saloons were voted out, Because when I was a drinking man, Before I joined the church, I killed a Swede At the saw-mill near Maple Grove. And they wanted a terrible man, Grim, righteous, strong, courageous, And a hater of saloons and drinkers, To keep law and […]...
28. In an Old Town Garden Shut from the clamor of the street By an old wall with lichen grown, It holds apart from jar and fret A peace and beauty all its own. The freshness of the springtime rains And dews of morning linger here; It holds the glow of summer noons And ripest twilights of the year. Above its […]...
29. The Road to Old Man's Town The fields of youth are filled with flowers, The wine of youth is strong: What need have we to count the hours? The summer days are long. But soon we find to our dismay That we are drifting down The barren slopes that fall away Towards the foothills grim and grey That lead to Old […]...
30. Big Night On The Town drunk on the dark streets of some city, It’s night, you’re lost, where’s your Room? You enter a bar to find yourself, Order scotch and water. Damned bar’s sloppy wet, it soaks Part of one of your shirt Sleeves. It’s a clip joint-the scotch is weak. You order a bottle of beer. Madame Death walks […]...
31. A Thunderstorm In Town (A Reminiscence, 1893) She wore a ‘terra-cotta’ dress, And we stayed, because of the pelting storm, Within the hansom’s dry recess, Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless We sat on, snug and warm. Then the downpour ceased, to my sharp sad pain, And the glass that had screened our forms before Flew up, and […]...
32. 516. Song-I'll aye ca' in by yon town Chorus-I’ll aye ca’ in by yon town, And by yon garden-green again; I’ll aye ca’ in by yon town, And see my bonie Jean again. THERE’S nane sall ken, there’s nane can guess What brings me back the gate again, But she, my fairest faithfu’ lass, And stownlins we sall meet again. I’ll aye ca’ […]...
33. Ashes Of Life Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike; Eat I must, and sleep I will,-and would that night were here! But ah!-to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike! Would that it were day again!-with twilight near! Love has gone and left me and I don’t know what to do; […]...
34. Atalanta In Camden – Town AY, ’twas here, on this spot, In that summer of yore, Atalanta did not Vote my presence a bore, Nor reply to my tenderest talk “She had Heard all that nonsense before.” She’d the brooch I had bought And the necklace and sash on, And her heart, as I thought, Was alive to my passion; […]...
35. The Ancient Town of Leith Ancient town of Leith, most wonderful to be seen, With your many handsome buildings, and lovely links so green, And the first buildings I may mention are the Courthouse and Town Hall, Also Trinity House, and the Sailors’ Home of Call. Then as for Leith Fort, it was erected in 1779, which is really grand, […]...
36. The Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay! With your numerous arches and pillars in so grand array And your central girders, which seem to the eye To be almost towering to the sky. The greatest wonder of the day, And a great beautification to the River Tay, Most beautiful to be seen, Near by Dundee […]...
37. Village Song HONEY, child, honey, child, whither are you going? Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing? Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you? Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you? Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going, Where upon the champa […]...
38. Bustopher Jones: The Cat About Town Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones In fact, he’s remarkably fat. He doesn’t haunt pubs he has eight or nine clubs, For he’s the St. James’s Street Cat! He’s the Cat we all greet as he walks down the street In his coat of fastidious black: No commonplace mousers have such well-cut trousers Or […]...
39. The Most Beautiful Woman In Town Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl In town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes To go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that Would not hold […]...
40. On Prayer You ask me how to pray to someone who is not. All I know is that prayer constructs a velvet bridge And walking it we are aloft, as on a springboard, Above landscapes the color of ripe gold Transformed by a magic stopping of the sun. That bridge leads to the shore of Reversal Where […]...