The Road and the End

Related poetry:

1. No Road Since we agreed to let the road between us Fall to disuse, And bricked our gates up, planted trees to screen us, And turned all time’s eroding agents loose, Silence, and space, and strangers – our neglect Has not had much effect. Leaves drift unswept, perhaps; grass creeps unmown; No other change. So clear it […]...
2. The Road to Avignon A Minstrel stands on a marble stair, Blown by the bright wind, debonair; Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, Above on the terrace a turret door Frames a lady, listless and wan, But fair for the eye to rest upon. The minstrel plucks at his silver strings, And looking up to the lady, sings: […]...
3. A Song of the Road O I will walk with you, my lad, whichever way you fare, You’ll have me, too, the side o’ you, with heart as light as air; No care for where the road you take’s a-leadin’ anywhere, It can but be a joyful ja’nt whilst you journey there. The road you take’s the path o’ love, […]...
4. The Roman Road The Roman Road runs straight and bare As the pale parting-line in hair Across the heath. And thoughtful men Contrast its days of Now and Then, And delve, and measure, and compare; Visioning on the vacant air Helmeted legionnaires, who proudly rear The Eagle, as they pace again The Roman Road. But no tall brass-helmeted […]...
5. 'Twas the old road through pain ‘Twas the old road through pain That unfrequented one With many a turn and thorn That stops at Heaven This was the Town she passed There where she rested last Then stepped more fast The little tracks close prest Then not so swift Slow slow as feet did weary grow Then stopped no other track! […]...
6. The Gardener XIV: I Was Walking by the Road I was walking by the road, I do not Know why, when the noonday was past And bamboo branches rustled in the Wind. The prone shadows with their out- Stretched arms clung to the feet of The hurrying light. The koels were weary of their Songs. I was walking by the road, I do not […]...
7. The Road to Paradise is plain The Road to Paradise is plain, And holds scarce one. Not that it is not firm But we presume A Dimpled Road Is more preferred. The Belles of Paradise are few Not me nor you But unsuspected things Mines have no Wings....
8. The Rolling English Road Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire, And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire; A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread The […]...
9. White in the Moon the Long Road Lies White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. Lover's Gifts XLVII: The Road Is The road is my wedded companion. She speaks to me under my feet all Day, she sings to my dreams all night. My meeting with her had no beginning, it begins endlessly at Each daybreak, renewing its summer in fresh flowers and songs, and Her every new kiss is the first kiss to me. The […]...
12. The Road The road is thronged with women; soldiers pass And halt, but never see them; yet they’re here – A patient crowd along the sodden grass, Silent, worn out with waiting, sick with fear. The road goes crawling up a long hillside, All ruts and stones and sludge, and the emptied dregs Of battle thrown in […]...
13. The Road I, too, would ease my old car to a stop On the side of some country road And count the stars or admire a sunset Or sit quietly through an afternoon…. I’d open the door and go walking Like James Wright across a meadow, Where I might touch a pony’s ear and Break into blossom; […]...
14. Tewkesbury Road IT is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where, Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why; Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air, Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky. […]...
15. 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 […]...
16. I know some lonely Houses off the Road I know some lonely Houses off the Road A Robber’d like the look of Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low, Inviting to A Portico, Where two could creep One hand the Tools The other peep To make sure All’s Asleep Old fashioned eyes Not easy to surprise! How orderly the Kitchen’d look, by night, With […]...
17. The Road That Runs Beside The River follows the river as it bends Along the valley floor, Going the way it must. Where water goes, so goes the road, If there’s room (not in a ravine, Gorge), the river On your right or left. Left is better: when you’re driving, It’s over your elbow across The road. You see the current, which […]...
18. Flash Crimson I SHALL cry God to give me a broken foot. I shall ask for a scar and a slashed nose. I shall take the last and the worst. I shall be eaten by gray creepers in a bunkhouse where no runners of the sun come and no dogs live. And yet-of all “and yets” this […]...
19. The Road to Gundagai The mountain road goes up and down From Gundagai to Tumut Town And, branching off, there runs a track Across the foothills grim and black, Across the plains and ranges grey To Sydney city far away. It came by chance one day that I From Tumut rode to Gundagai, And reached about the evening tide […]...
20. Road and Hills I shall go away To the brown hills, the quiet ones, The vast, the mountainous, the rolling, Sun-fired and drowsy! My horse snuffs delicately At the strange wind; He settles to a swinging trot; his hoofs tramp the dust. The road winds, straightens, Slashes a marsh, Shoulders out a bridge, Then Again the hills. Unchanged, […]...
21. The Road to Hogan's Gap Now look, you see, it’s this way like, You cross the broken bridge And run the crick down till you strike The second right-hand ridge. The track is hard to see in parts, But still it’s pretty clear; There’s been two Injin hawkers’ carts Along that road this year. Well, run that right-hand ridge along […]...
22. On the Road to Nowhere On the road to nowhere What wild oats did you sow When you left your father’s house With your cheeks aglow? Eyes so strained and eager To see what you might see? Were you thief or were you fool Or most nobly free? Were the tramp-days knightly, True sowing of wild seed? Did you dare […]...
23. A little Road not made of Man A little Road not made of Man Enabled of the Eye Accessible to Thill of Bee Or Cart of Butterfly If Town it have beyond itself ‘Tis that I cannot say I only know no Curricle that rumble there Bear Me...
24. There was one I met upon the road There was one I met upon the road Who looked at me with kind eyes. Her said, “Show me of your wares.” And this I did, Holding forth one. He said, “It is a sin.” Then held I forth another; He said, “It is a sin.” Then held I forth another; He said, “It is […]...
25. The Road was lit with Moon and star The Road was lit with Moon and star The Trees were bright and still Descried I by the distant Light A Traveller on a Hill To magic Perpendiculars Ascending, though Terrene Unknown his shimmering ultimate But he indorsed the sheen...
26. Brookland Road I was very well pleased with what I knowed, I reckoned myself no fool Till I met with a maid on the Brookland Road, That turned me back to school. Low down-low down! Where the liddle green lanterns shine O maids, I’ve done with ‘ee all but one, And she can never’ be mine! ‘Twas […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. The Exeter Road Panels of claret and blue which shine Under the moon like lees of wine. A coronet done in a golden scroll, And wheels which blunder and creak as they roll Through the muddy ruts of a moorland track. They daren’t look back! They are whipping and cursing the horses. Lord! What brutes men are when […]...
29. Experience is the Angled Road Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By Paradox the Mind itself Presuming it to lead Quite Opposite How Complicate The Discipline of Man Compelling Him to Choose Himself His Preappointed Pain...
30. Fiddler Jones The earth keeps some vibration going There in your heart, and that is you. And if the people find you can fiddle, Why, fiddle you must and for all your life. What do you see, a harvest ofclover? Or a meadow to awlk through to the river? The wind’s in the corn; you rub your […]...
31. On a Tree Fallen Across the Road (To hear us talk) The tree the tempest with a crash of wood Throws down in front of us is not bar Our passage to our journey’s end for good, But just to ask us who we think we are Insisting always on our own way so. She likes to halt us in our runner […]...
32. A man toiled on a burning road A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place. The man cried out in rage, “Ah! Do not deride me, fool! I know you All day stuffing your belly, Burying your heart In grass and tender sprouts: It will not suffice […]...
33. Whiffletree GIVE me your anathema. Speak new damnations on my head. The evening mist in the hills is soft. The boulders on the road say communion. The farm dogs look out of their eyes and keep thoughts from the corn cribs. Dirt of the reeling earth holds horseshoes. The rings in the whiffletree count their secrets. […]...
34. Upon the road of my life Upon the road of my life, Passed me many fair creatures, Clothed all in white, and radiant. To one, finally, I made speech: “Who art thou?” But she, like the others, Kept cowled her face, And answered in haste, anxiously, “I am good deed, forsooth; You have often seen me.” “Not uncowled,” I made reply. […]...
35. My Butterfly Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too, And the daft sun-assaulter, he That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead: Saave only me (Nor is it sad to thee!) Save only me There is none left to mourn thee in the fields. The gray grass is scarce dappled with the snow; Its two banks […]...
36. Apologetic Postscript Of A Year Later IF you see this song, my dear, And last year’s toast, I’m confoundedly in fear You’ll be serious and severe About the boast. Blame not that I sought such aid To cure regret. I was then so lowly laid I used all the Gasconnade That I could get. Being snubbed is somewhat smart, Believe, my […]...
37. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 78. Again at Christmas did we weave Again at Christmas did we weave The holly round the Christmas hearth; The silent snow possess’d the earth, And calmly fell our Christmas-eve: The yule-log sparkled keen with frost, No wing of wind the region swept, But over all things brooding slept The quiet sense of something lost. As in the winters left behind, Again […]...
38. THE ROAD TO HAWORTH MOOR for Brenda Williams The dawn cracked with ice, with fire grumbling in the grate, With ire in the homes we had left, but still somehow We made a nook in the crooked corner of Hall Ings, A Wordsworthian dream with sheep nibbling by every crumbling Dry-stone wall, smoke inching from the chimney pot beside the […]...
39. The Winds of Angus THE GREY road whereupon we trod became as holy ground: The eve was all one voice that breathed its message with no sound: And burning multitudes pour through my heart, too bright, too blind, Too swift and hurried in their flight to leave their tale behind. Twin gates unto that living world, dark honey-coloured eyes, […]...
40. Route Marchin&#039 We’re marchin’ on relief over Injia’s sunny plains, A little front o’ Christmas-time an’ just be’ind the Rains; Ho! get away you bullock-man, you’ve ‘eard the bugle blowed, There’s a regiment a-comin’ down the Grand Trunk Road; With its best foot first And the road a-sliding past, An’ every bloomin’ campin’-ground exactly like the last; […]...