Sonnet VII: Sweet Poet of the Woods

Related poetry:

1. Sonnet XXVI: Where Antique Woods Where antique woods o’er-hang the mountains’s crest, And mid-day glooms in solemn silence lour; Philosophy, go seek a lonely bow’r, And waste life’s fervid noon in fancied rest. Go, where the bird of sorrow weaves her nest, Cooing, in sadness sweet, through night’s dim hour; Go, cull the dew-drops from each potent flow’r That med’cines […]...
2. Sweet Stay-at-Home Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, Thou knowest of no strange continent; Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep A gentle motion with the deep; Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, Where scent comes forth in every breeze. Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow For miles, as far as eyes can go: Thou hast […]...
3. Sonnet 56: Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said Sweet love, renew thy force! Be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but today by feeding is allayed, Tomorrow sharpened in his former might. So, love, be thou, although today thou fill Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness, Tomorrow see again, and do not kill The spirit […]...
4. Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain, While rainy evening drips to misty night, And misty night to cloudy morning clears, And clouds disperse across the gathering light, And […]...
5. 342. Song-Sweet Afton FLOW gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro’ the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, […]...
6. I Would in That Sweet Bosom Be I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!) Where no rude wind might visit me. Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be. I would be ever in that heart (O soft I knock and soft entreat her!) Where only peace might be my part. […]...
7. How Sweet I Roam'd How sweet I roam’d from field to field, And tasted all the summer’s pride ‘Til the prince of love beheld Who in the sunny beams did glide! He shew’d me lilies for my hair And blushing roses for my brow; He led me through his garden fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow. With sweet […]...
8. When I was a Bird I climbed up the karaka tree Into a nest all made of leaves But soft as feathers. I made up a song that went on singing all by itself And hadn’t any words, but got sad at the end. There were daisies in the grass under the tree. I said just to try them: “I’ll […]...
9. Sonnet LIII: Clear Anker Another to the River Anker Clear Anker, on whose silver-sanded shore My soul-shrin’d saint, my fair Idea, lies, O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore The crystal stream refined by her eyes, Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the Spring Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers, Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing Among the dainty dew-impearled […]...
10. Sonnet 95: How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! That tongue that tells the story of thy days, Making lascivious comments on thy sport, Cannot dispraise, but in a kind […]...
11. Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste. Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh […]...
12. Sonnet XXX: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear times’ waste; Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow, For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh […]...
13. When to the sessions of sweet silent thought (Sonnet 30) When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh […]...
14. His Last Sonnet Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art! – Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores, Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the […]...
15. The Old Poet I will be glad because it is the Spring; I will forget the winter in my heart Dead hopes and withered promise; and will wring A little joy from life ere life depart. For spendthrift youth with passion-blinded eyes, Stays not to see how woods and fields are bright; He hears the phantom voices call, […]...
16. So sweet love seemed that April morn So sweet love seemed that April morn, When first we kissed beside the thorn, So strangely sweet, it was not strange We thought that love could never change. But I can tell let truth be told That love will change in growing old; Though day by day is naught to see, So delicate his motions […]...
17. Sonnet XVII: His Mother Dear Cupid His mother dear Cupid offended late, Because that Mars grown slacker in her love, With pricking shot he did not throughly more To keep the pace of their first loving state. The boy refus’d for fear of Mars’s hate, Who threaten’d stripes, if he his wrath did prove: But she in chafe him from her […]...
18. The Poet Only on me, the lonely one, The unending stars of the night shine, The stone fountain whispers its magic song, To me alone, to me the lonely one The colorful shadows of the wandering clouds Move like dreams over the open countryside. Neither house nor farmland, Neither forest nor hunting privilege is given to me, […]...
19. Whom We Worship I WOULD not have the love of lips and eyes, The ancient ways of love: But in my heart I built a Paradise, A nest there for the dove. I felt the wings of light that fluttered through The gate I held apart: And all without was shadow, but I knew The bird within my […]...
20. Evening ‘Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track, And gone to its nest is the wren, And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back, Clings to the bowed bents like a wen. The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot Where his shadow reached when he first came, […]...
21. Sonnet III: To a Nightingale Poor melancholy bird – that all night long Tell’st to the Moon, thy tale of tender woe; From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow, And whence this mournful melody of song? Thy poet’s musing fancy would translate What mean the sounds that swell thy little breast, When still at dewy eve thou leav’st […]...
22. 532. Song-Their groves o' sweet myrtle THEIR groves o’ sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o’ green breckan, Wi’ the burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom. Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowèrs Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen; For there, lightly tripping, […]...
23. Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint Never let me lose the marvel Of your statue-like eyes, or the accent The solitary rose of your breath Places on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, A branchless trunk, and what I most regret Is having no flower, pulp, or clay For the worm of my despair. If […]...
24. INFAMOUS POET I never did fit in – at six or sixty one – I stand out in a crowd, too young or old And gather pity like a shroud. “Is that real silk?” A teenager inquired. “As real as Oxfam ever is For one pound fifty.” The vast ballroom was growing misty And blurred with alcohol […]...
25. The Woods At Night The binocular owl, Fastened to a limb Like a lantern All night long, Sees where all The other birds sleep: Towhee under leaves, Titmouse deep In a twighouse, Sapsucker gripped To a knothole lip, Redwing in the reeds, Swallow in the willow, Flicker in the oak – But cannot see poor Whippoorwill Under the hill […]...
26. Sweet Dancer The girl goes dancing there On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth Grass plot of the garden; Escaped from bitter youth, Escaped out of her crowd, Or out of her black cloud. Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer! If strange men come from the house To lead her away, do not say That she is happy being crazy; […]...
27. The Silence of Love I COULD praise you once with beautiful words ere you came And entered my life with love in a wind of flame. I could lure with a song from afar my bird to its nest, But with pinions drooping together silence is best. In the land of beautiful silence the winds are laid, And life […]...
28. Of That So Sweet Imprisonment Of that so sweet imprisonment My soul, dearest, is fain – Soft arms that woo me to relent And woo me to detain. Ah, could they ever hold me there Gladly were I a prisoner! Dearest, through interwoven arms By love made tremulous, That night allures me where alarms Nowise may trouble us; But lseep […]...
29. It is not Always May No hay pajaros en los nidos de antano. Spanish Proverb The sun is bright, the air is clear, The darting swallows soar and sing. And from the stately elms I hear The bluebird prophesying Spring. So blue you winding river flows, It seems an outlet from the sky, Where waiting till the west-wind blows, The […]...
30. Critic and Poet: an Epilogue No man had ever heard a nightingale, When once a keen-eyed naturalist was stirred To study and define what is a bird, To classify by rote and book, nor fail To mark its structure and to note the scale Whereon its song might possibly be heard. Thus far, no farther; so he spake the word. […]...
31. Sonnet LVI: When Like an Eaglet When like an eaglet I first found my Love, For that the virtue I thereof would know, Upon the nest I set it forth to prove If it were of that kingly kind or no; But it no sooner say my Sun appear, But on her rays with open eyes it stood, To show that […]...
32. The Poet To Death TARRY a while, O Death, I cannot die While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring; Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs Where dhadikulas sing. Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die With all my blossoming hopes unharvested, My joys ungarnered, all my songs unsung, And all my tears unshed. […]...
33. CONSTRUCTIONS/RECONSTRUCTIONS I Living in a land Where only the dying correspond I am borne on the wings of love II I cannot join in a poem The interstices of clouds I watched a lapwing Hover in the air Glide in an arc Veer from the sheer cliff III Who shall I meet On this journey to […]...
34. A Poet's Death is His Life IV The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow […]...
35. Sonnet LXXXIX Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence; Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, Against thy reasons making no defence. Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, To set a form upon desired change, As I’ll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, I […]...
36. Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play; Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow: And some are sung, and that was yesterday, And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow. Go forth; and if it be o’er stony way, Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow: And it was […]...
37. Tis Sweet to Think Tis sweet to think that, where’er we rove, We are sure to find something blissful and dear, And that, when we’re far from the lips that we love, We’ve but to make love to the lips we are near. The heart, like a tendril, accustom’d to cling, Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish […]...
38. Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence; Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, Against thy reasons making no defence. Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, To set a form upon desirèd change, As I’ll my self disgrace, knowing thy will, […]...
39. On A Political Prisoner She that but little patience knew, From childhood on, had now so much A grey gull lost its fear and flew Down to her cell and there alit, And there endured her fingers’ touch And from her fingers ate its bit. Did she in touching that lone wing Recall the years before her mind Became […]...
40. Think Of It Not, Sweet One Think not of it, sweet one, so; – Give it not a tear; Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go Any – anywhere. Do not lool so sad, sweet one, – Sad and fadingly; Shed one drop then, – it is gone – O ’twas born to die! Still so pale? then, dearest, weep; Weep, […]...