Question And Answer

Related poetry:

1. UPON LOVE:BY WAY OF QUESTION AND ANSWER I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do? ANS. Like, and dislike ye. I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do? ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye. I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do? ANS. Love will be-fool ye. I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do? ANS. Heat ye, […]...
2. The Answer You have spoken the answer. A child searches far sometimes Into the red dust On a dark rose leaf And so you have gone far For the answer is: Silence. In the republic Of the winking stars and spent cataclysms Sure we are it is off there the answer Is hidden and folded over, Sleeping […]...
3. Sonnet 34 – With the same heart, I said, I'll answer thee With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee As those, when thou shalt call me by my name- Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same, Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy? When called before, I told how hastily I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game, To run and answer […]...
4. Answer July Answer July Where is the Bee Where is the Blush Where is the Hay? Ah, said July Where is the Seed Where is the Bud Where is the May Answer Thee Me Nay said the May Show me the Snow Show me the Bells Show me the Jay! Quibbled the Jay Where be the Maize […]...
5. The Answer Bill has left his house of clay, Slammed the door and gone away: How he laughed but yesterday! I had two new jokes to tell, Salty, but he loved them well: Now I see his empty shell. Poker-faced he looks at me; Peeved to miss them jokes – how h Would have belly-laughed with glee! […]...
6. Answer THE WARMTH of life is quenched with bitter frost; Upon the lonely road a child limps by Skirting the frozen pools: our way is lost: Our hearts sink utterly. But from the snow-patched moorland chill and drear, Lifting our eyes beyond the spirëd height, With white-fire lips apart the dawn breathes clear Its soundless hymn […]...
7. Love and a Question A stranger came to the door at eve, And he spoke the bridegroom fair. He bore a green-white stick in his hand, And, for all burden, care. He asked with the eyes more than the lips For a shelter for the night, And he turned and looked at the road afar Without a window light. […]...
8. The Answer A Rose, in tatters on the garden path, Cried out to God and murmured ‘gainst His Wrath, Because a sudden wind at twilight’s hush Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush. And God, Who hears both sun-dried dust and sun, Had pity, whispering to that luckless one, “Sister, in that thou sayest We […]...
9. Sit Smiling I boasted among men that I had known you. They see your pictures in all works of mine. They come and ask me, ‘Who is he?’ I know not how to answer them. I say, ‘Indeed, I cannot tell.’ They blame me and they go away in scorn. And you sit there smiling. I put […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. A Better Answer Dear Chloe, how blubbered is that pretty face; Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurled! Prithee quit this caprice, and (as old Falstaff says) Let us e’en talk a little like folks of this world. How canst thou presume thou hast leave to destroy The beauties which Venus but lent to thy […]...
12. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
13. The Answer Then what is the answer?- Not to be deluded by dreams. To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence, and their tyrants come, many times before. When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose the least ugly faction; these evils are essential. To keep one’s own integrity, be merciful and […]...
14. Non Dolet It does not hurt. She looked along the knife Smiling, and watched the thick drops mix and run Down the sheer blade; not that which had been done Could hurt the sweet sense of the Roman wife, But that which was to do yet ere the strife Could end for each for ever, and the […]...
15. An answer to Various Bards Well, I’ve waited mighty patient while they all came rolling in, Mister Lawson, Mister Dyson, and the others of their kin, With their dreadful, dismal stories of the Overlander’s camp, How his fire is always smoky, and his boots are always damp; And they paint it so terrific it would fill one’s soul with gloom […]...
16. Settle The Question Right However the battle is ended, Though proudly the victor comes, With flaunting flags and neighing nags And echoing roll of drums; Still truth proclaims this motto In letters of living light, No question is ever settled Until it is settled right. Though the heel of the strong oppressor May grind the weak in the dust, […]...
17. Sonnet V: Nothing But No Nothing but “No,” and “Aye,” and “Aye,” and “No”? How falls it out so strangely you reply? I tell ye, Fair, I’ll not be answer’d so, With this affirming “No,” denying “Aye.” I say, “I love,” you slightly answer “Aye”; I say, “You love,” you pule me out a “No”; I say, “I die,” you […]...
18. 1887 From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign returns And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills are bright, The dales are light between, Because ’tis fifty years to-night That God has saved the Queen. Now, when the flame they watch not […]...
19. Earth's Answer Earth raised up her head. From the darkness dread & drear, Her light fled: Stony dread! And her locks cover’d with grey despair. Prison’d on watery shore Starry Jealousy does keep my den Cold and hoar Weeping o’er I hear the father of the ancient men Selfish father of men Cruel jealous selfish fear Can […]...
20. Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised: The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised; That being now with her huge brightness dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view; But looking still on her, I stand […]...
21. It was a quiet way It was a quiet way He asked if I was his I made no answer of the Tongue But answer of the Eyes And then He bore me on Before this mortal noise With swiftness, as of Chariots And distance, as of Wheels. This World did drop away As Acres from the feet Of one […]...
22. In heaven In heaven, Some little blades of grass Stood before God. “What did you do?” Then all save one of the little blades Began eagerly to relate The merits of their lives. This one stayed a small way behind, Ashamed. Presently, God said, “And what did you do?” The little blade answered, “Oh my Lord, Memory […]...
23. Question Body my house My horse my hound What will I do When you are fallen Where will I sleep How will I ride What will I hunt Where can I go Without my mount All eager and quick How will I know In thicket ahead Is danger or treasure When Body my good Bright dog […]...
24. The Last Question New love, new love, where are you to lead me? All along a narrow way that marks a crooked line. How are you to slake me, and how are you to feed me? With bitter yellow berries, and a sharp new wine. New love, new love, shall I be forsaken? One shall go a-wandering, and […]...
25. A Question Whene’er I feed the barnyard folk My gentle soul is vexed; My sensibilities are torn And I am sore perplexed. The rooster so politely stands While waiting for his food, But when I feed him, what a change! He then is rough and rude. He crowds his gentle wives aside Or pecks them on the […]...
26. The Question I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, […]...
27. Ianthe's Question ‘Do you remember me? or are you proud? ’ Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd, Ianthe said, and look’d into my eyes. ВЂ˜A yes, a yes to both: for Memory Where you but once have been must ever be, And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise. ’...
28. Where? My snowy eupatorium has dropped Its silver threads of petals in the night; No signal told its blossoming had stopped; Its seed-films flutter silent, ghostly white: No answer stirs the shining air, As I ask, “Where?” Beneath the glossy leaves of winter-green Dead lilly-bells lie low, and in their place A rounded disk of pearly […]...
29. The Question to Lisetta WHAT nymph should I admire or trust, But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just? What nymph should I desire to see, But her who leaves the plain for me? To whom should I compose the lay, But her who listens when I play? To whom in song repeat my cares, But her who in my sorrow shares? […]...
30. TO My Lord Colrane, In Answer to his Complemental Verses sent me under the Name of CLEANOR LOng my dull Muse in heavy slumbers lay, Indulging Sloth, and to soft Ease gave way, Her Fill of Rest resolving to enjoy, Or fancying little worthy her employ. When Noble Cleanors obliging Strains Her, the neglected Lyre to tune, constrains. Confus’d at first, she rais’d her drowsie Head, Ponder’d a while, then pleas’d, forsook […]...
31. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
32. Village Don Juan Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun; And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me; Ice-blue eyes on every hand, Handsomest youngsters in the land. “Old Stud Horse” they say of me, But back of my beard I laugh with glee. […]...
33. Poet's Path My garden hath a slender path With ivy overgrown, A secret place where once would pace A pot all alone; I see him now with fretted brow, Plunged deep in thought; And sometimes he would write maybe, And sometimes he would not. A verse a day he used to say Keeps worry from the door; […]...
34. In Answer to a Request You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my Dear, Can clocks tick back to yesterday at noon? Can cracked and fallen leaves recall last June And leap up on the boughs, now stiff and sere? For your sake, I would go and seek the year, Faded beyond the purple ranks of dune, Blown sands of […]...
35. England's Answer Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban; Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man. Flesh of the flesh that I bred, bone of the bone that I bare; Stark as your sons shall be stern as your fathers were. Deeper than speech our love, stronger than […]...
36. An Answer If all the year was summer-time, And all the aim of life Was just to lilt on like a rhyme – Then I would be your wife. If all the days were August days, And crowned with golden weather, How happy then through green-clad ways We two could stray together! If all the nights were […]...
37. Answer Between two nights The brief day. The farm is there. And in the thicket, a snare The hunter set for us. Noon’s desert. It still warms the stone. Chirping in the wind, Buzz of a guitar Down the hillside. The slow match Of withered foliage Glows against the wall. Salt-white air. Fall’s arrowheads, The crane’s […]...
38. Answer To A Sonnet By J. H. Reynolds “Dark eyes are dearer far Than those that mock the hyacinthine bell.” Blue! ‘Tis the life of heaven,-the domain Of Cynthia,-the wide palace of the sun,- The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,- The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun. Blue! ‘Tis the life of waters:-Ocean And all its vassal streams, pools numberless, […]...
39. An Answer to Frances Cornford Why do you rush through the fields in trains, Guessing so much and so much. Why do you flash through the flowery meads, Fat-head poet that nobody reads; And why do you know such a frightful lot About people in gloves and such?...
40. Midnight The stars are soft as flowers, and as near; The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun; No separate leaf or single blade is here- All blend to one. No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest. There is no edged thing in all this night, Save in […]...