Consummation Of Grief

Related poetry:

1. If grief for grief can touch thee If grief for grief can touch thee, If answering woe for woe, If any truth can melt thee Come to me now! I cannot be more lonely, More drear I cannot be! My worn heart beats so wildly ‘Twill break for thee And when the world despises When Heaven repels my prayer Will not mine […]...
2. Fragment At last I entered a long dark gallery, Catacomb-lined; and ranged at the side Were the bodies of men from far and wide Who, motion past, were nevertheless not dead. “The sense of waiting here strikes strong; Everyone’s waiting, waiting, it seems to me; What are you waiting for so long? What is to happen?” […]...
3. Grief is a Mouse Grief is a Mouse And chooses Wainscot in the Breast For His Shy House And baffles quest Grief is a Thief quick startled Pricks His Ear report to hear Of that Vast Dark That swept His Being back Grief is a Juggler boldest at the Play Lest if He flinch the eye that way Pounce […]...
4. 'Tis good the looking back on Grief ‘Tis good the looking back on Grief To re-endure a Day We thought the Mighty Funeral Of All Conceived Joy To recollect how Busy Grass Did meddle one by one Till all the Grief with Summer waved And none could see the stone. And though the Woe you have Today Be larger As the Sea […]...
5. Talking to Grief Ah, Grief, I should not treat you Like a homeless dog Who comes to the back door For a crust, for a meatless bone. I should trust you. I should coax you Into the house and give you Your own corner, A worn mat to lie on, Your own water dish. You think I don’t […]...
6. Duet 1. Is it the wind of the dawn that I hear In the pine overhead? 2. No; but the voice of the deep as it hollows The cliffs of the land. 1. Is there a voice coming up with the Voice of the deep from the strand, Once coming up with a Song in the […]...
7. The Right to Grief To Certain Poets About to Die TAKE your fill of intimate remorse, perfumed sorrow, Over the dead child of a millionaire, And the pity of Death refusing any check on the bank Which the millionaire might order his secretary to Scratch off And get cashed. Very well, You for your grief and I for mine. […]...
8. Eyrie Between the mountain and the sea I’ve made a happy landing; And here a peace has come to me That passeth understanding; A shining faith and purity Beyond demanding. With palm below and pine above, Where wings of gulls are gleaming; By orange tree and olive grove, From walls of airy seeming, My roses beg […]...
9. Piazza Piece I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying To make you hear. Your ears are soft and small And listen to an old man not at all, They want the young men’s whispering and sighing. But see the roses on your trellis dying And hear the spectral singing of the moon; For I must have […]...
10. Hooray Say The Roses hooray say the roses, today is blamesday And we are red as blood. Hooray say the roses, today is Wednesday And we bloom wher soldiers fell And lovers too, And the snake at the word. Hooray say the roses, darkness comes All at once, like lights gone out, The sun leaves dark continents And rows […]...
11. Daft In the warm yellow smile of the morning, She stands at the lattice pane, And watches the strong young binders Stride down to the fields of grain. And she counts them over and over As they pass her cottage door: Are they six, she counts them seven; Are they seven, she counts one more. When […]...
12. Grief I tell you hopeless grief is passionless, That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In souls, as countries, lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute heavens. Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy […]...
13. Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine Who doesn’t love Roses, and who Doesn’t love the lilies Of the black ponds Floating like flocks Of tiny swans, And of course, the flaming Trumpet vine Where the hummingbird comes Like a small green angel, to soak His dark tongue In happiness – And who doesn’t want To live with the brisk Motor of […]...
14. Sonnet 42: That thou hast her, it is not all my grief That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; That she hath thee is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye: Thou dost love her because thou know’st I love her, […]...
15. Out Of The Arm Of One Love out of the arm of one love And into the arms of another I have been saved from dying on the cross By a lady who smokes pot Writes songs and stories And is much kinder than the last, Much much kinder, And the sex is just as good or better. It isn’t pleasant to […]...
16. Circe's Grief In the end, I made myself Known to your wife as A god would, in her own house, in Ithaca, a voice Without a body: she Paused in her weaving, her head turning First to the right, then left Though it was hopeless of course To trace that sound to any Objective source: I doubt […]...
17. De M. Antonio NOW Antoninus, in a smiling age, Counts of his life the fifteenth finished stage. The rounded days and the safe years he sees, Nor fears death’s water mounting round his knees. To him remembering not one day is sad, Not one but that its memory makes him glad. So good men lengthen life; and to […]...
18. To Delia: On Her Endeavouring To Conceal Her Grief At Parting Ah! wherefore should my weeping maid suppress Those gentle signs of undissembled woe? When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, Ah, why forbid the willing tears to flow? Since for my sake each dear translucent drop Breaks forth, best witness of thy truth sincere, My lips should drink the precious mixture up, And, ere […]...
19. Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring Seven stars in the still water, And seven in the sky; Seven sins on the King’s daughter, Deep in her soul to lie. Red roses are at her feet, (Roses are red in her red-gold hair) And O where her bosom and girdle meet Red roses are hidden there. Fair is the knight who lieth […]...
20. Time and Grief O TIME! who know’st a lenient hand to lay Softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowly thence (Lulling to sad repose the weary sense) The faint pang stealest unperceived away; On thee I rest my only hope at last, And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear That flows in vain o’er all my soul […]...
21. Throw Roses THROW roses on the sea where the dead went down. The roses speak to the sea, And the sea to the dead. Throw roses, O lovers- Let the leaves wash on the salt in the sun....
22. The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks In my dream I milked a cow, The terrible udder Like a great rubber lily Sweated in my fingers And as I yanked, Waiting for the moon juice, Waiting for the white mother, Blood spurted from it And covered me with shame. Then God spoke to me and said: People say only good things about […]...
23. Service of all the Dead Between the avenues of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks, and surplices Of linen, go the chaunting choristers, The priests in gold and black, the villagers. And all along the path to the cemetery The round, dark heads of men crowd silently And black-scarved faces of women-folk, wistfully Watch at the banner of death, and […]...
24. Water I was born in a drouth year. That summer My mother waited in the house, enclosed In the sun and the dry ceaseless wind, For the men to come back in the evenings, Bringing water from a distant spring. Veins of leaves ran dry, roots shrank. And all my life I have dreaded the return […]...
25. Traveling Through The Dark Traveling through the dark I found a deer Dead on the edge of the Wilson River road. It is usually best to roll them into the canyon: That road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead. By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car And stood by the heap, a doe, […]...
26. Rain Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me Remembering again that I shall die And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks For washing me cleaner than I have been Since I was born into this solitude. Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon: […]...
27. No Worst, There Is None. Pitched Past Pitch Of Grief No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief, More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring. Comforter, where, where is your comforting? Mary, mother of us, where is your relief? My cries heave, herds-long; huddle in a main, a chief Woe, world-sorrow; on an age-old anvil wince and sing- Then lull, then leave […]...
28. Virginibus Puerisque I care not that one listen if he lives For aught but life’s romance, nor puts above All life’s necessities the need to love, Nor counts his greatest wealth what Beauty gives. But sometime on an afternoon in spring, When dandelions dot the fields with gold, And under rustling shade a few weeks old ‘Tis […]...
29. Dream Song 121: Grief is fatiguing. He is out of it Grief is fatiguing. He is out of it, The whole humiliating Human round, Out of this & that. He made a-many hearts go pit-a-pat Who now need never mind his nostril-hair Nor a critical error laid bare. He endured fifty years. He was Randall Jarrell And wrote a-many books & he wrote well. Peace to […]...
30. I measure every Grief I meet I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes I wonder if It weighs like Mine Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long Or did it just begin I could not tell the Date of Mine It feels so old a pain I wonder if it hurts to live […]...
31. This Then it’s the same as before Or the other time Or the time before that. Here’s a cock And here’s a cunt And here’s trouble. Only each time You think Well now I’ve learned: I’ll let her do that And I’ll do this, I no longer want it all, Just some comfort And some sex And […]...
32. Finality When I am dead I will not care How future generations fare, For I will be so unaware. Though fields their slain has carpeted, And seas be salt with tears they shed, Not one I’ll waste, for I’ll be dead. Though atom bombs in ashes lay Their skyey cities of to-day, With carrion lips I […]...
33. The River In my first sleep I came to the river And looked down Through the clear water – Only in dream Water so pure, Laced and undulant Lines of flow On its rocky bed Water of life Streaming for ever. A house was there Beside the river And I, arrived, An expected guest About to explore […]...
34. A GRIEF Rivers, tow paths, caravan parks From Kirkstall to Keighley The track’s ribbon flaps Like Margaret’s whirling and twirling At ten with her pink-tied hair And blue-check patterned frock O my lost beloved Mills fall like doomed fortresses Their domes topple, stopped clocks Chime midnight forever and ever Amen to the lost hegemony of mill girls […]...
35. LONDON ROSES “ROWSES, Rowses! Penny a bunch!” they tell you Slattern girls in Trafalgar, eager to sell you. Roses, roses, red in the Kensington sun, Holland Road, High Street, Bayswater, see you and smell you Roses of London town, red till the summer is done. Roses, roses, locust and lilac, perfuming West End, East End, wondrously budding […]...
36. God's Grief “Lord God of Hosts,” the people pray, “Make strong our arms that we may slay Our cursed foe and win the day.” “Lord God of Battles,” cries the foe, “Guide us to strike a bloody blow, And lay the adversary low.” But brooding o’er the battle smother Bewails the Lord: “Brother to brother, Why must […]...
37. Grief If grief could burn out Like a sunken coal The heart would rest quiet The unrent soul Be as still as a veil But I have watched all night The fire grow silent The grey ash soft And I stir the stubborn flint The flames have left And the bereft Heart lies impotent...
38. Blue Roses Roses red and roses white Plucked I for my love’s delight. She would none of all my posies Bade me gather her blue roses. Half the world I wandered through, Seeking where such flowers grew. Half the world unto my quest Answered me with laugh and jest. Home I came at wintertide, But my silly […]...
39. My Twins Of twin daughters I’m the mother – Lord! how I was proud of them; Each the image of the other, Like two lilies on one stem; But while May, my first-born daughter, Was angelic from the first, Different as wine and water, Maude, my second, seemed accurst. I’m a tender-hearted dame, Military is my bent; […]...
40. Grief O who will give me tears? Come, all ye springs, Dwell in my head and eyes; come, clouds And rain; My grief hath need of all the watery things That nature hath produced: let every vein Suck up a river to supply mine eyes, My weary weeping eyes, too dry for me, Unless they get […]...