Wild May

Related poetry:

1. A Game of Fives Five little girls, of Five, Four, Three, Two, One: Rolling on the hearthrug, full of tricks and fun. Five rosy girls, in years from Ten to Six: Sitting down to lessons – no more time for tricks. Five growing girls, from Fifteen to Eleven: Music, Drawing, Languages, and food enough for seven! Five winsome girls, […]...
2. The Wild Old Wicked Man Because I am mad about women I am mad about the hills,’ Said that wild old wicked man Who travels where God wills. ‘Not to die on the straw at home. Those hands to close these eyes, That is all I ask, my dear, From the old man in the skies. Daybreak and a candle-end. […]...
3. The Call Of The Wild Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there’s nothing else to gaze on, Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore, Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon, Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar? Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it, Searched the Vastness for a […]...
4. Cigarettes And Whiskey And Wild, Wild Women (from a song) Perhaps I was born kneeling, Born coughing on the long winter, Born expecting the kiss of mercy, Born with a passion for quickness And yet, as things progressed, I learned early about the stockade Or taken out, the fume of the enema. By two or three I learned not to kneel, Not […]...
5. Wild Oats About twenty years ago Two girls came in where I worked – A bosomy English rose And her friend in specs I could talk to. Faces in those days sparked The whole shooting-match off, and I doubt If ever one had like hers: But it was the friend I took out, And in seven years […]...
6. Wild Nights Wild Nights! Wild Nights Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the Winds To a Heart in port Done with the Compass Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor Tonight In Thee!...
7. Wild Swans I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over. And what did I see I had not seen before? Only a question less or a question more: Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying. Tiresome heart, forever living and dying, House without air, I leave you and lock your door. Wild […]...
8. The Wild Common The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping, Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame; Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping: They are lords of the desolate wastes of sadness their screamings proclaim. Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth, lie Low-rounded on the mournful grass they have bitten down to the quick. Are they asleep? […]...
9. Wild Dark Love Song Her man, A wild dark love song Borne deep within her gypsy soul He’s gone to live in jagged mountains Where salmon jump and sing In tarns High above The cloud lines Beyond the silver moon In the shadow of the Cader Idris In misty mountains Where meadowlarks are known to wing And wild geese […]...
10. Wild With All Regrets (Another version of “A Terre”.) To Siegfried Sassoon My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My back’s been stiff for hours, damned hours. Death never gives his squad a Stand-at-ease. I can’t read. There: it’s no use. Take your book. A short life and a merry one, my […]...
11. The Wild Goat O you would clothe me in silken frocks And house me from the cold, And bind with bright bands my glossy locks, And buy me chains of gold; And give me meekly to do my will The hapless sons of men: But the wild goat bounding on the barren hill Droops in the grassy pen....
12. Love The Wild Swan “I hate my verses, every line, every word. Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try One grass-blade’s curve, or the throat of one bird That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky. Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch One color, one glinting Flash, of the splendor of things. Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets […]...
13. Wild Geese You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body Love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. […]...
14. As Through the Wild Green Hills of Wyre As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest […]...
15. 145. Song-Yon Wild Mossy Mountains YON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide, That nurse in their bosom the youth o’ the Clyde, Where the grouse lead their coveys thro’ the heather to feed, And the shepherd tends his flock as he pipes on his reed. Not Gowrie’s rich valley, nor Forth’s sunny shores, To me hae the charms o’yon […]...
16. The Philosopher And what are you that, wanting you, I should be kept awake As many nights as there are days With weeping for your sake? And what are you that, missing you, As many days as crawl I should be listening to the wind And looking at the wall? I know a man that’s a braver […]...
17. A wild Blue sky abreast of Winds A wild Blue sky abreast of Winds That threatened it did run And crouched behind his Yellow Door Was the defiant sun Some conflict with those upper friends So genial in the main That we deplore peculiarly Their arrogant campaign...
18. The Wild Flower's Song As I wandered the forest, The green leaves among, I heard a Wild Flower Singing a song. ‘I slept in the earth In the silent night, I murmured my fears And I felt delight. ‘In the morning I went As rosy as morn, To seek for new joy; But oh! met with scorn.’...
19. THE IRISH GUARDS 1918 We’re not so old in the Army List, But we’re not so young at our trade, For we had the honour at Fontenoy Of meeting the Guards’Brigade. ‘Twas Lally, Dillon, Bulkeley, Clare, And Lee that led us then, And after a hundred and seventy years We’re fighting for France again! Old Days! The wild […]...
20. Flame-Heart So much have I forgotten in ten years, So much in ten brief years! I have forgot What time the purple apples come to juice, And what month brings the shy forget-me-not. I have forgot the special, startling season Of the pimento’s flowering and fruiting; What time of year the ground doves brown the fields […]...
21. The peace of wild things When despair grows in me And I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound In fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake Rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the […]...
22. One Year After I Not once in all our days of poignant love, Did I a single instant give to thee My undivided being wholly free. Not all thy potent passion could remove The barrier that loomed between to prove The full supreme surrendering of me. Oh, I was beaten, helpless utterly Against the shadow-fact with which I […]...
23. Wild Strawberries Strawberries that in gardens grow Are plump and juicy fine, But sweeter far as wise men know Spring from the woodland vine. No need for bowl or silver spoon, Sugar or spice or cream, Has the wild berry plucked in June Beside the trickling stream. One such to melt at the tongue’s root, Confounding taste […]...
24. Curse of a Rich Polish Peasant on His Sister Who Ran Away With a Wild Man FELIKSOWA has gone again from our house and this time for good, I hope. She and her husband took with them the cow father gave them, and they sold it. She went like a swine, because she called neither on me, her brother, nor on her father, before leaving for those forests. That is where […]...
25. Wild Orphan Blandly mother Takes him strolling by railroad and by river he’s the son of the absconded hot rod angel And he imagines cars and rides them in his dreams, So lonely growing up among the imaginary automobiles And dead souls of Tarrytown to create Out of his own imagination the beauty of his wild Forebears […]...
26. Piping Down the Valleys Wild Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: ‘Pipe a song about a lamb!’ So I piped with merry cheer. ‘Piper, pipe that song again.’ So I piped: he wept to hear. ‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy […]...
27. Modern Love IX: He Felt the Wild Beast He felt the wild beast in him betweenwhiles So masterfully rude, that he would grieve To see the helpless delicate thing receive His guardianship through certain dark defiles. Had he not teeth to rend, and hunger too? But still he spared her. Once: ‘Have you no fear?’ He said: ’twas dusk; she in his grasp; […]...
28. By the Hoof of the Wild Goat By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed From the cliff where she lay in the Sun Fell the Stone To the Tarn where the daylight is lost, So she fell from the light of the Sun And alone! Now the fall was ordained from the first With the Goat and the Cliff and the […]...
29. This Is A Poem I Wrote At Night, Before The Dawn This is a poem I wrote before I died and was reborn: – After the years of the apples ripening and the eagles soaring, After the festival here the small flowers gleamed like the first stars, And the horses cantered and romped away like the experience of skill; mastered and serene Power, grasped and governed […]...
30. Wild Peaches 1 When the world turns completely upside down You say we’ll emigrate to the Eastern Shore Aboard a river-boat from Baltimore; We’ll live among wild peach trees, miles from town, You’ll wear a coonskin cap, and I a gown Homespun, dyed butternut’s dark gold colour. Lost, like your lotus-eating ancestor, We’ll swim in milk and […]...
31. Dream Song 135: I heard said 'Cats that walk by their wild lone&#039 I heard said ‘Cats that walk by their wild lone’ But Henry had need of friends. They disappeared Shall I follow my dream? Clothes disappeared in a backward sliding, zones Shot into view, pocked, exact & weird: Who is what he seem? I will tell you now a story about Speck: After other cuts, he […]...
32. Sonnet XXII: Wild Is the Foaming Sea Wild is the foaming Sea! The surges roar! And nimbly dart the livid lightnings round! On the rent rock the angry waves rebound; Ah me! the less’ning bark is seen no more! Along the margin of the trembling shore, Loud as the blast my frantic cries shall sound, My storm-drench’d limbs the flinty fragments wound, […]...
33. The Old House In through the porch and up the silent stair; Little is changed, I know so well the ways; Here, the dead came to meet me; it was there The dream was dreamed in unforgotten days. But who is this that hurries on before, A flitting shade the brooding shades among? She turned, I saw her […]...
34. The Wild Honey-Suckle Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, Hid in this silent, dull retreat, Untouched thy honied blossoms blow, Unseen thy little branches greet; …No roving foot shall crush thee here, …No busy hand provoke a tear. By Nature’s self in white arrayed, She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, And planted here the gaurdian shade, […]...
35. A Strange Wild Song He thought he saw an Elephant That practised on a fife: He looked again, and found it was A letter from his wife. “At length I realize,” he said, “The bitterness of life!” He thought he saw a Buffalo Upon the chimney-piece: He looked again, and found it was His Sister’s Husband’s Niece. “Unless you […]...
36. In A London Square Put forth thy leaf, thou lofty plane, East wind and frost are safely gone; With zephyr mild and balmy rain The summer comes serenly on; Earth, air, and sun and skies combine To promise all that’s kind and fair:- But thou, O human heart of mine, Be still, contain thyself, and bear. December days were […]...
37. Fiddler Jones The earth keeps some vibration going There in your heart, and that is you. And if the people find you can fiddle, Why, fiddle you must and for all your life. What do you see, a harvest ofclover? Or a meadow to awlk through to the river? The wind’s in the corn; you rub your […]...
38. Poem in Prose This poem is for my wife. I have made it plainly and honestly: The mark is on it Like the burl on the knife. I have not made it for praise. She has no more need for praise Than summer has Or the bright days. In all that becomes a woman Her words and her […]...
39. How Yesterday Looked THE HIGH horses of the sea broke their white riders On the walls that held and counted the hours The wind lasted. Two landbirds looked on and the north and the east Looked on and the wind poured cups of foam And the evening began. The old men in the shanties looked on and lit […]...
40. Wild Grapes What tree may not the fig be gathered from? The grape may not be gathered from the birch? It’s all you know the grape, or know the birch. As a girl gathered from the birch myself Equally with my weight in grapes, one autumn, I ought to know what tree the grape is fruit of. […]...