THE FLASK

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1. To Perilla Ah, my Perilla, dost thou grieve to see Me day by day to steal away from thee? Age calls me hence, and my grey hairs bid come, And haste away to mine eternal home. ‘Twill not be long, Perilla, after this, That I must give thee the supremest kiss. Dead when I am, first cast […]...
2. Circe's Torment I regret bitterly The years of loving you in both Your presence and absence, regret The law, the vocation That forbid me to keep you, the sea A sheet of glass, the sun-bleached Beauty of the Greek ships: how Could I have power if I had no wish To transform you: as You loved my […]...
3. The Spider and the Ghost of the Fly Once I loved a spider When I was born a fly, A velvet-footed spider With a gown of rainbow-dye. She ate my wings and gloated. She bound me with a hair. She drove me to her parlor Above her winding stair. To educate young spiders She took me all apart. My ghost came back to […]...
4. Thomas Hood The man who cloaked his bitterness within This winding-sheet of puns and pleasantries, God never gave to look with common eyes Upon a world of anguish and of sin: His brother was the branded man of Lynn; And there are woven with his jollities The nameless and eternal tragedies That render hope and hopelessness akin. […]...
5. The Gulf A Gulf of silence separates us from each other. I stand at one side of the gulf, you at the other. I cannot see you or hear you, yet know that you are there. Often I call you by your childish name And pretend that the echo to my crying is your voice. How can […]...
6. Lazarus “No, Mary, there was nothing-not a word. Nothing, and always nothing. Go again Yourself, and he may listen-or at least Look up at you, and let you see his eyes. I might as well have been the sound of rain, A wind among the cedars, or a bird; Or nothing. Mary, make him look at […]...
7. CONTEMPLATION THOU, O my Grief, be wise and tranquil still, The eve is thine which even now drops down, To carry peace or care to human will, And in a misty veil enfolds the town. While the vile mortals of the multitude, By pleasure, cruel tormentor, goaded on, Gather remorseful blossoms in light mood Grief, place […]...
8. On Growing Old Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying; My dog and I are old, too old for roving. Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying, Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving. I take the book and gather to the fire, Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute The clock […]...
9. On the Death of Robert Browning He held no dream worth waking; so he said, He who stands now on death’s triumphal steep, Awakened out of life wherein we sleep And dream of what he knows and sees, being dead. But never death for him was dark or dread; “Look forth,” he bade the soul, and fear not. Weep, All ye […]...
10. Reason and Passion XV And the priestess spoke again and said: “Speak to us of Reason and Passion.” And he answered saying: Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite. Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and […]...
11. Five Flights Up Still dark. The unknown bird sits on his usual branch. The little dog next door barks in his sleep Inquiringly, just once. Perhaps in his sleep, too, the bird inquires Once or twice, quavering. Questions if that is what they are Answered directly, simply, By day itself. Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous; Gray light streaking each […]...
12. EXOTIC PERFUME WHEN with closed eyes in autumn’s eves of gold I breathe the burning odours of your breast, Before my eyes the hills of happy rest Bathed in the sun’s monotonous fires, unfold. Islands of Lethe where exotic boughs Bend with their burden of strange fruit bowed down, Where men are upright, maids have never grown […]...
13. A Last Confession What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay? I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery, But had great pleasure with a lad That I loved bodily. Flinging from his arms I laughed To think his passion such He fancied that I gave a soul Did but our […]...
14. Villon They threw me from the gates: my matted hair Was dank with dungeon wetness; my spent frame O’erlaid with marish agues: everywhere Tortured by leaping pangs of frost and flame, So hideous was I that even Lazarus there In noisome rags arrayed and leprous shame, Beside me set had seemed full sweet and fair, And […]...
15. Yad Mordechai Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here Still look out the windows like sick children Who are not allowed outside to play. And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted For the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron Rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life […]...
16. Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat On the silent sea we have heard the sound That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet. Under the mile off moon we trembled listening To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound […]...
17. I Think I Should Have Loved You II I THINK I should have loved you presently, And given in earnest words I flung in jest; And lifted honest eyes for you to see, And caught your hand against my cheek and breast; And all my pretty follies flung aside That won you to me, and beneath your gaze, Naked of reticence and […]...
18. Old Tom Again Things out of perfection sail, And all their swelling canvas wear, Nor shall the self-begotten fail Though fantastic men suppose Building-yard and stormy shore, Winding-sheet and swaddling – clothes....
19. His Meditation Upon Death BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend, Blest with the meditation of my end; Though they be few in number, I’m content; If otherwise, I stand indifferent, Nor makes it matter, Nestor’s years to tell, If man lives long, and if he live not well. A multitude of days still heaped on […]...
20. Hyla Brook By June our brook’s run out of song and speed. Sought for much after that, it will be found Either to have gone groping underground (And taken with it all the Hyla breed That shouted in the mist a month ago, Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow) Or flourished and come up […]...
21. The First Jasmines Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with These jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the Darkness of midnight; Autumn sunsets have come to me […]...
22. When You Are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But […]...
23. Music, When Soft Voices Die Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved’s bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on....
24. What Then? His chosen comrades thought at school He must grow a famous man; He thought the same and lived by rule, All his twenties crammed with toil; ‘What then?’ sang Plato’s ghost. ‘What then?’ Everything he wrote was read, After certain years he won Sufficient money for his need, Friends that have been friends indeed; ‘What […]...
25. Albert and the 'Eadsman On young Albert Ramsbottom’s birthday His parents asked what he’d like most; He said to see t’ Tower of London And gaze upon Anne Boleyn’s ghost. They thowt this request were unusual And at first to refuse were inclined, ‘Til Pa said a trip t’ metrollopse Might broaden the little lad’s mind. They took charrybank […]...
26. At Bay Wife Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast. Tell me there are no memories of your past That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast. Husband Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred. Does not the deed speak louder than the word? (dear God, that old dream woke again […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. MATINS, OR MORNING PRAYER When with the virgin morning thou dost rise, Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice; First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing. Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense. Thy golden censers fill’d with odours sweet Shall make […]...
29. Memorial Your body was a sacred cell always, A jewel that grew dull in garish light, An opal which beneath my wondering gaze Gleamed rarely, softly throbbing in the night. I touched your flesh with reverential hands, For you were sweet and timid like a flower That blossoms out of barren tropic sands, Shedding its perfume […]...
30. Ballade at Thirty-five This, no song of an ingénue, This, no ballad of innocence; This, the rhyme of a lady who Followed ever her natural bents. This, a solo of sapience, This, a chantey of sophistry, This, the sum of experiments, I loved them until they loved me. Decked in garments of sable hue, Daubed with ashes of […]...
31. The Tired Worker O whisper, O my soul! The afternoon Is waning into evening, whisper soft! Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moon From out its misty veil will swing aloft! Be patient, weary body, soon the night Will wrap thee gently in her sable sheet, And with a leaden sigh thou wilt invite To rest […]...
32. Winding Wool She’d bring to me a skein of wool And beg me to hold out my hands; So on my pipe I cease to pull And watch her twine the shining strands Into a ball so snug and neat, Perchance a pair of socks to knit To comfort my unworthy feet, Or pullover my girth to […]...
33. Twas One of Those Dreams ‘TWAS one of those dreams, that by music are brought, Like a bright summer haze, o’er the poet’s warm thought When, lost in the future, his soul wanders on, And all of this life, but its sweetness, is gone. The wild notes he heard o’er the water were those He had taught to sing Erin’s […]...
34. Beppo Why are thou sad, my Beppo? But last eve, Here at my feet, thy dear head on my breast, I heard thee say thy heart would no more grieve Or feel the olden ennui and unrest. What troubles thee? Am I not all thine own – I, so long sought, so sighed for and so […]...
35. Rebirth If any God should say, “I will restore The world her yesterday Whole as before My Judgment blasted it” who would not lift Heart, eye, and hand in passion o’er the gift? If any God should will To wipe from mind The memory of this ill Which is Mankind In soul and substance now who […]...
36. In A Breton Cemetery They sleep well here, These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days In fierce Atlantic ways; And found not there, Beneath the long curled wave, So quiet a grave. And they sleep well, These peasant-folk, who told their lives away, From day to market-day, As one should tell, With patient industry, Some sad old rosary. And […]...
37. Modern Love XV: I Think She Sleeps I think she sleeps: it must be sleep, when low Hangs that abandoned arm toward the floor; The face turned with it. Now make fast the door. Sleep on: it is your husband, not your foe. The Poet’s black stage-lion of wronged love, Frights not our modern dames: well if he did! Now will I […]...
38. White Hands FOR the second time in a year this lady with the white hands is brought to the west room second floor of a famous sanatorium. Her husband is a cornice manufacturer in an Iowa town and the lady has often read papers on Victorian poets before the local literary club. Yesterday she washed her hands […]...
39. Sonnet 50: How heavy do I journey on the way How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel’s end, Doth teach that case and that repose to say, “Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!” The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by […]...
40. A curious Cloud surprised the Sky A curious Cloud surprised the Sky, ‘Twas like a sheet with Horns; The sheet was Blue The Antlers Gray It almost touched the lawns. So low it leaned then statelier drew And trailed like robes away, A Queen adown a satin aisle Had not the majesty....