From the Antique

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1. The Antique To The Northern Wanderer Thou hast crossed over torrents, and swung through wide-spreading ocean, Over the chain of the Alps dizzily bore thee the bridge, That thou might’st see me from near, and learn to value my beauty, Which the voice of renown spreads through the wandering world. And now before me thou standest, canst touch my altar so […]...
2. EXPLANATION OF AN ANTIQUE GEM A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high Within a beauteous garden; And see, a goat is sitting by. As if he were its warden. But oh, Quirites, how one errs! The tree is guarded badly; For round the other side there whirrs And hums a beetle madly. The hero with his well-mail’d coat Nibbles the […]...
3. Love and Friendship Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly-tree The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms But which will bloom most contantly? The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring, Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again And who wil call the wild-briar fair? Then scorn the silly […]...
4. The Bible is an antique Volume The Bible is an antique Volume Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectres Subjects Bethlehem Eden the ancient Homestead Satan the Brigadier Judas the Great Defaulter David the Troubador Sin a distinguished Precipice Others must resist Boys that “believe” are very lonesome Other Boys are “lost” Had but the Tale a warbling […]...
5. 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 […]...
6. 46. The Belles of Mauchline IN Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles, The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a’; Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess, In Lon’on or Paris, they’d gotten it a’. Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland’s divine, Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw: There’s beauty and fortune to […]...
7. Summer for thee, grant I may be Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole are done! For thee to bloom, I’ll skip the tomb And row my blossoms o’er! Pray gather me Anemone Thy flower forevermore!...
8. Bee-attitudes in the shadow Of the flower Is the sting The bee driven by need Uses its painful gift To keep its sense of beauty In proportion It does its job with A thoughtless dedication Its honeyed world Excites no inner space Bees are not poets Who wade through words With too much brain Around their […]...
9. The Thread of Life I The irresponsive silence of the land, The irresponsive sounding of the sea, Speak both one message of one sense to me: Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band Of inner solitude; we bind not thee; But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? What heart […]...
10. Etesia Absent Love, the world’s life! What a sad death Thy absence is to lose our breath At once and die, is but to live Enlarged, without the scant reprieve Of pulse and air: whose dull returns And narrow circles the soul mourns. But to be dead alive, and still To wish, but never have our will: […]...
11. On Journeys Through The States ON journeys through the States we start, (Ay, through the world-urged by these songs, Sailing henceforth to every land-to every sea;) We, willing learners of all, teachers of all, and lovers of all. We have watch’d the seasons dispensing themselves, and passing on, We have said, Why should not a man or woman do as […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green, As, on opening the box, may be seen, Some years of a Black Ploughman’s Gauze, To be made up directly, because Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear For the death of a Relative dear Miss Lloyd must expect to receive This license to mourn and to grieve, […]...
14. Cherries and birds cherries are so vulnerable Blinking their way from green To polished red in trees Guileless to stave off birds A murmur does its rounds And when the bright day comes And ripeness throws its coyness In the air a seething mesh Of wings and whetted beaks (knowing its cherry-right) Falls upon the fleshy fruit And […]...
15. New Year's Morning Only a night from old to new! Only a night, and so much wrought! The Old Year’s heart all weary grew, But said: The New Year rest has brought.” The Old Year’s hopes its heart laid down, As in a grave; but trusting, said: “The blossoms of the New Year’s crown Bloom from the ashes […]...
16. Immortality So I have sunk my roots in earth Since that my pretty boys had birth; And fear no more the grave and gloom, I, with the centuries to come. As the tree blossoms so bloom I, Flinging wild branches to the sky; Renew each year my leafy suit, Strike with the years a deeper root. […]...
17. Cherry-Time Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune: Merry, merry, Take a cherry; Mine are sounder, Mine are rounder, Mine are sweeter For the eater Under the moon. And you’ll be fairies soon. In the cherry pluckt at night, With […]...
18. He is alive, this morning He is alive, this morning He is alive and awake Birds are resuming for Him Blossoms dress for His Sake. Bees to their Loaves of Honey Add an Amber Crumb Him to regale Me Only Motion, and am dumb....
19. On a Honey Bee Thou born to sip the lake or spring, Or quaff the waters of the stream, Why hither come on vagrant wing? Does Bacchus tempting seem Did he, for you, the glass prepare? Will I admit you to a share? Did storms harrass or foes perplex, Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay Did wars distress, or […]...
20. Two Children Give me your hand, oh little one! Like children be we two; Yet I am old, my day is done That barely breaks for you. A baby-basket hard you hold, With in it cherries four: You cherish them as men do gold, And count them o’er. And then you stumble in your walk; The cherries […]...
21. Work Without Hope All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair- The bees are stirring-birds are on the wing- And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. Yet well I ken the […]...
22. Refrigerator, 1957 More like a vault you pull the handle out And on the shelves: not a lot, And what there is (a boiled potato In a bag, a chicken carcass Under foil) looking dispirited, Drained, mugged. This is not A place to go in hope or hunger. But, just to the right of the middle Of […]...
23. 418. Song-O were my love you lilac fair O WERE my love yon Lilac fair, Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring, And I, a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing! How I wad mourn when it was torn By Autumn wild, and Winter rude! But I wad sing on wanton wing, When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d. O gin […]...
24. Sing To Me Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom, I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom, I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, – Sing of the beauty and brightness of life – Sing to me, sing to me! Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad! I am so weary, my soul […]...
25. THE MUSES' SON [Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in His Autobiography, as expressing the manner in which his poetical Effusions used to pour out from him.] THROUGH field and wood to stray, And pipe my tuneful lay, ‘Tis thus my days are pass’d; And all keep tune with me, And move in harmony, And so on, […]...
26. Come O'er the Sea Come o’er the sea, Maiden with me, Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows; Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same, where’er it goes. Let fate frown on, so we love and part not; ‘Tis life where thou art, ’tis death were thou are not. Then come o’er the sea, Maiden with me, […]...
27. The Stolen Child Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water-rats; There we’ve hid our faery vats, Full of berries And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For […]...
28. My Bees: An Allegory “O bees, sweet bees!” I said, “that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles. Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.” Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield, I set, and patient for the autumn’s yield Of sweet I waited. When the village bells Rang frosty clear, and from their satin cells […]...
29. The Winter's Spring The winter comes; I walk alone, I want no bird to sing; To those who keep their hearts their own The winter is the spring. No flowers to please-no bees to hum- The coming spring’s already come. I never want the Christmas rose To come before its time; The seasons, each as God bestows, Are […]...
30. This quiet Dust was Gentleman and Ladies This quiet Dust was Gentleman and Ladies And Lads and Girls Was laughter and ability and Sighing And Frocks and Curls. This Passive Place a Summer’s nimble mansion Where Bloom and Bees Exists an Oriental Circuit Then cease, like these...
31. Desespoir The seasons send their ruin as they go, For in the spring the narciss shows its head Nor withers till the rose has flamed to red, And in the autumn purple violets blow, And the slim crocus stirs the winter snow; Wherefore yon leafless trees will bloom again And this grey land grow green with […]...
32. Po' Boy Blues When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de Whole damn world’s turned cold. I was a good boy, Never done no wrong. Yes, I was a good boy, Never done no wrong, But this world is weary An’ de […]...
33. I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child Children born of fairy stock Never need for shirt or frock, Never want for food or fire, Always get their hearts desire: Jingle pockets full of gold, Marry when they’re seven years old. Every fairy child may keep Two ponies and ten sheep; All have houses, each his own, Built of brick or granite stone; […]...
34. On the Trek Oh, the weary, weary journey on the trek, day after day, With sun above and silent veldt below; And our hearts keep turning homeward to the youngsters far away, And the homestead where the climbing roses grow. Shall we see the flats grow golden with the ripening of the grain? Shall we hear the parrots […]...
35. To Henrietta Lyn We’re going to miss you little girl, you leave an aching space Way out of all proportion to your size. Tomorrow we must face the day Without your lavish greeting – without your urgent bark to wake us up And say, “Let me out of here, the sun is up, I want to play.” We’re […]...
36. Joy and Pleasure Now, joy is born of parents poor, And pleasure of our richer kind; Though pleasure’s free, she cannot sing As sweet a song as joy confined. Pleasure’s a Moth, that sleeps by day And dances by false glare at night; But Joy’s a Butterfly, that loves To spread its wings in Nature’s light. Joy’s like […]...
37. A Cradle Song The angels are stooping Above your bed; They weary of trooping With the whimpering dead. God’s laughing in Heaven To see you so good; The Sailing Seven Are gay with His mood. I sigh that kiss you, For I must own That I shall miss you When you have grown....
38. My Husky Team I met an ancient man who mushed With Peary to the Pole. Said I, “In all that land so hushed What most inspired your soul?” He looked at me with bleary eye, He scratched a hoary head: “You know that Sourdoughs jest cain’t lie So here’s the dope,” he said. “That hike was like a […]...
39. 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 […]...
40. 90 North At home, in my flannel gown, like a bear to its floe, I clambered to bed; up the globe’s impossible sides I sailed all night-till at last, with my black beard, My furs and my dogs, I stood at the northern pole. There in the childish night my companions lay frozen, The stiff fur knocked […]...