Troths

Related poetry:

1. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
2. The Cottage Here in turn succeed and rule Carter, smith, and village fool, Then again the place is known As tavern, shop, and Sunday-school; Now somehow it’s come to me To light the fire and hold the key, Here in Heaven to reign alone. All the walls are white with lime, Big blue periwinkles climb And kiss […]...
3. Colors Passing Through Us Purple as tulips in May, mauve Into lush velvet, purple As the stain blackberries leave On the lips, on the hands, The purple of ripe grapes Sunlit and warm as flesh. Every day I will give you a color, Like a new flower in a bud vase On your desk. Every day I will paint […]...
4. Adelaide Crapsey AMONG the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July, I read your heart in a book. And your mouth of blue pansy-I know somewhere I have seen it rain-shattered. And I have seen a woman with her head flung between her naked knees, and her head held […]...
5. Haze KEEP a red heart of memories Under the great gray rain sheds of the sky, Under the open sun and the yellow gloaming embers. Remember all paydays of lilacs and songbirds; All starlights of cool memories on storm paths. Out of this prairie rise the faces of dead men. They speak to me. I can […]...
6. All in June A week ago I had a fire To warm my feet, my hands and face; Cold winds, that never make a friend, Crept in and out of every place. Today the fields are rich in grass, And buttercups in thousands grow; I’ll show the world where I have been With gold-dust seen on either shoe. […]...
7. In Tall Grass BEES and a honeycomb in the dried head of a horse in a pasture corner-a skull in the tall grass and a buzz and a buzz of the yellow honey-hunters. And I ask no better a winding sheet (over the earth and under the sun.) Let the bees go honey-hunting with yellow blur of wings […]...
8. Letters To Dead Imagists EMILY DICKINSON: You gave us the bumble bee who has a soul, The everlasting traveler among the hollyhocks, And how God plays around a back yard garden. STEVIE CRANE: War is kind and we never knew the kindness of war till You came; Nor the black riders and clashes of spear and shield out Of […]...
9. The most important population The most important population Unnoticed dwell, They have a heaven each instant Not any hell. Their names, unless you know them, ‘Twere useless tell. Of bumble-bees and other nations The grass is full....
10. And Death Shall Have No Dominion And death shall have no dominion. Dead mean naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the […]...
11. Broken Dreams There is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing Because it was your prayer Recovered him upon the bed of death. For your sole sake – that all heart’s ache have known, And given to others all heart’s […]...
12. Psalm 49 part 2 v.14,15 C. M. Death and the resurrection. Ye sons of pride, that hate the just And trample on the poor, When death has brought you down to dust, Your pomp shall rise no more. The last great day shall change the scene; When will that hour appear? When shall the just revive, and reign O’er […]...
13. Hymn 83 Afflictions and death under Providence. Job 5:6-8. Not from the dust affliction grows, Nor troubles rise by chance; Yet we are born to cares and woes; A sad inheritance! As sparks break out from burning coals, And still are upwards borne So grief is rooted in our souls, And man grows up to mourn. Yet […]...
14. 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 […]...
15. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
16. Rain Has Fallen All the Day Rain has fallen all the day. O come among the laden trees: The leaves lie thick upon the way Of memories. Staying a little by the way Of memories shall we depart. Come, my beloved, where I may Speak to your heart....
17. Sonnets 10: Oh, My Beloved, Have You Thought Of This Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this: How in the years to come unscrupulous Time, More cruel than Death, will tear you from my kiss, And make you old, and leave me in my prime? How you and I, who scale together yet A little while the sweet, immortal height No pilgrim may remember […]...
18. Break, Break, Break Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the […]...
19. A Birthday Song. To S. G For ever wave, for ever float and shine Before my yearning eyes, oh! dream of mine Wherein I dreamed that time was like a vine, A creeping rose, that clomb a height of dread Out of the sea of Birth, all filled with dead, Up to the brilliant cloud of Death o’erhead. This vine bore […]...
20. Edith Conant We stand about this place we, the memories; And shade our eyes because we dread to read: “June 17th, 1884, aged 21 years and 3 days.” And all things are changed. And we we, the memories, stand here for ourselves alone, For no eye marks us, or would know why we are here. Your husband […]...
21. Morning Sea Let me stop here. Let me, too, look at nature awhile. The brilliant blue of the morning sea, of the cloudless sky, The yellow shore; all lovely, All bathed in light. Let me stand here. And let me pretend I see all this (I really did see it for a minute when I first stopped) […]...
22. A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork Without a Revery And so encountering a Fly This January Day Jamaicas of Remembrance stir That send me reeling in The moderate drinker of Delight Does not deserve the spring Of juleps, part are the Jug And more are in the joy Your connoisseur in Liquours Consults the Bumble […]...
23. Buttons I HAVE been watching the war map slammed up for Advertising in front of the newspaper office. Buttons red and yellow buttons blue and black buttons Are shoved back and forth across the map. A laughing young man, sunny with freckles, Climbs a ladder, yells a joke to somebody in the crowd, And then fixes […]...
24. Lions Not enough study Has been done On old lions dying. Unable to feed themselves, Without pride, teeth Or claws, their death Is starvation. We don’t wonder What happens To predators past their prime, Pastures are For the meek, and Only reasoning primates Would contemplate Last rites For their ancient nemesis. The lion needs No winter […]...
25. Lion In An Iron Cage Look at the lion in the iron cage, Look deep into his eyes: like two naked steel daggers they sparkle with anger. But he never loses his dignity although his anger comes and goes goes and comes. You couldn’t find a place for a collar Round his thick, furry mane. Although the scars of a […]...
26. "Nature" is what we see “Nature” is what we see The Hill the Afternoon Squirrel Eclipse the Bumble bee Nay Nature is Heaven Nature is what we hear The Bobolink the Sea Thunder the Cricket Nay Nature is Harmony Nature is what we know Yet have no art to say So impotent Our Wisdom is To her Simplicity....
27. Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day If thou survive my well-contented day When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover, Compare them with the bett’ring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their […]...
28. Sonnet XXXII If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bettering of the time, And though they be outstripp’d by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their […]...
29. Elizabeth Childers Dust of my dust, And dust with my dust, O, child who died as you entered the world, Dead with my death! Not knowing breath, though you tried so hard, With a heart that beat when you lived with me, And stopped when you left me for Life. It is well, my child. For you […]...
30. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
31. 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 […]...
32. Dust When the white flame in us is gone, And we that lost the world’s delight Stiffen in darkness, left alone To crumble in our separate night; When your swift hair is quiet in death, And through the lips corruption thrust Has stilled the labour of my breath When we are dust, when we are dust! […]...
33. SYMPHONY IN YELLOW An omnibus across the bridge Crawls like a yellow butterfly And, here and there, a passer-by Shows like a little restless midge. Big barges full of yellow hay Are moored against the shadowy wharf, And, like a yellow silken scarf, The thick fog hangs along the quay. The yellow leaves begin to fade And flutter […]...
34. His Bill is clasped his Eye forsook His Bill is clasped his Eye forsook His Feathers wilted low The Claws that clung, like lifeless Gloves Indifferent hanging now The Joy that in his happy Throat Was waiting to be poured Gored through and through with Death, to be Assassin of a Bird Resembles to my outraged mind The firing in Heaven, On […]...
35. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
36. A BREAK IN THE RHYTHM OF LIFE Bhaskar Roy Barman When the world itself looked exhausted, Revolving round the sun; When a bumble-bee sounded tired Of humming round a ternate leaf; When a few fishermen were venting their rage on their net -they looked fed up of mending their net off and on – And when the fish were leaping and playing […]...
37. Throwbacks SOMEWHERE you and I remember we came. Stairways from the sea and our heads dripping. Ladders of dust and mud and our hair snarled. Rags of drenching mist and our hands clawing, climbing. You and I that snickered in the crotches and corners, in the gab of our first talking. Red dabs of dawn summer […]...
38. CHANGE As milled silver I was welcome In every gutter, tinkling over cobbles I rang the truth loudly on solid-oak counters And tills tolled for me clear as bells. Boldly I gave myself to many, Slipped from moist palm to pocket, Pirouetting without points, jingling With dull coppers and important keys. First I was lost in […]...
39. The Hermit WHAT moves that lonely man is not the boom Of waves that break agains the cliff so strong; Nor roar of thunder, when that travelling voice Is caught by rocks that carry far along. ‘Tis not the groan of oak tree i its prime, When lightning strikes its solid heart to dust; Nor frozen pond […]...
40. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...