Old Botany Bay

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1. Botany Bay Eclogues 03 – Humphrey And William (Time, Noon.) HUMPHREY: See’st thou not William that the scorching Sun By this time half his daily race has run? The savage thrusts his light canoe to shore And hurries homeward with his fishy store. Suppose we leave awhile this stubborn soil To eat our dinner and to rest from toil! WILLIAM: Agreed. Yon tree […]...
2. Botany Bay Eclogues 02 – Elinor (Time, Morning. Scene, the Shore.) Once more to daily toil once more to wear The weeds of infamy from every joy The heart can feel excluded, I arise Worn out and faint with unremitting woe; And once again with wearied steps I trace The hollow-sounding shore. The swelling waves Gleam to the morning sun, and […]...
3. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
4. Botany Bay Eclogues 05 – Frederic (Time Night. Scene the woods.) Where shall I turn me? whither shall I bend My weary way? thus worn with toil and faint How thro’ the thorny mazes of this wood Attain my distant dwelling? that deep cry That rings along the forest seems to sound My parting knell: it is the midnight howl Of […]...
5. Hard Rock Returns To Prison From The Hospital For The Criminal Insane Hard Rock/ was/ “known not to take no shit From nobody,” and he had the scars to prove it: Split purple lips, lumbed ears, welts above His yellow eyes, and one long scar that cut Across his temple and plowed through a thick Canopy of kinky hair. The WORD/ was/ that Hard Rock wasn’t a […]...
6. The Apple-Tree Old John had an apple-tree, healthy and green, Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen, So juicy, so mellow, and red; And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store, To children or any who pass’d by his door, To buy him a morsel of bread. Little Dick, his next neighbour, one […]...
7. Dane-Geld A. D. 980-1016 It is always a temptation to an armed and agile nation To call upon a neighbour and to say: “We invaded you last night we are quite prepared to fight, Unless you pay us cash to go away.” And that is called asking for Dane-geld, And the people who ask ti explain […]...
8. Oh Who Is That Young Sinner Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists? And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists? And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air? Oh they’re taking him to prison for the color of his hair. ‘Tis a shame to human nature, such a head […]...
9. The First Surveyor ‘The man who brought the railway through our friend the engineer.’ They cheer his pluck and enterprise and engineering skill! ‘Twas my old husband found the pass behind that big red hill. Before the engineer was born we’d settled with our stock Behind that great big mountain chain, a line of range and rock A […]...
10. The Rock Cries Out to Us Today A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, […]...
11. Black Harry's Team No soft-skinned Durham steers are they, No Devons plump and red, But brindled, black and iron-grey That mark the mountain-bred; For mountain-bred and mountain-broke, With sullen eyes agleam, No stranger’s hand could put a yoke On old Black Harry’s team. Pull out, pull out, at break of morn The creeks are running white, And Tiger, […]...
12. The Man Rock A man is a rock in a garden of chairs and waits For a longtime to be over. It is easier for a rock in a garden than a man Inside his mother. He decided to be a rock when He got outside. A rock asks only what is a rock. A rock waits to […]...
13. Ninetieth Birthday You go up the long track That will take a car, but is best walked On slow foot, noting the lichen That writes history on the page Of the grey rock. Trees are about you At first, but yield to the green bracken, The nightjars house: you can hear it spin On warm evenings; it […]...
14. Trickle, Drops TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins leaving! O drops of me! trickle, slow drops, Candid, from me falling-drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison’d, From my face-from my forehead and lips, From my breast-from within where I was conceal’d-press forth, red drops-confession drops; Stain every page-stain every song I sing, […]...
15. Are You Drinking? washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook out again I write from the bed as I did last year. will see the doctor, Monday. “yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head- aches and my back hurts.” “are you drinking?” he will ask. “are you getting your Exercise, your vitamins?” I think that I am just ill […]...
16. The Little Black Boy My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white. White as an angel is the English child: But I am black as if bereav’d of light. My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day. She took me on her […]...
17. Trees (For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden) I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. The Space Heater On the then-below-zero day, it was on, Near the patients’ chair, the old heater Kept by the analyst’s couch, at the end, Like the infant’s headstone that was added near the foot Of my father’s grave. And it was hot, with the almost Laughing satire of a fire’s heat, The little coils like hairs in […]...
20. 209. Song-M'Pherson's Farewell FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong, The wretch’s destinie! M’Pherson’s time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. Chorus.-Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he; He play’d a spring, and danc’d it round, Below the gallows-tree. O, what is death but parting breath? On many a bloody plain I’ve dared his face, and in […]...
21. A Ballad Of The Trees And The Master Into the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him When into the woods He came. Out of the woods my […]...
22. TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
23. The Christ of the 'Never&#039 With eyes that are narrowed to pierce To the awful horizons of land, Through the blaze of hot days, and the fierce White heat-waves that flow on the sand; Through the Never Land westward and nor’ward, Bronzed, bearded, and gaunt on the track, Low-voiced and hard-knuckled, rides forward The Christ of the Outer Out-back. For […]...
24. Out Back The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought, The cheque was spent that the shearer earned, And the sheds were all cut out; The publican’s words were short and few, And the publican’s looks were black And the time had come, as the shearer knew, to carry his swag […]...
25. The red man says hello the red man says hello The green tree says i’m here All grown-ups are sleeping Only the children hear Decorations are delighted Presents hug the floor The room in its festive hat Hides behind the door Through the glittering day Two worlds split the one Grown-ups lose their tempers Children have the fun The red […]...
26. Parable Of The Dove A dove lived in a village. When it opened its mouth Sweetness came out, sound Like a silver light around The cherry bough. But The dove wasn’t satisfied. It saw the villagers Gathered to listen under The blossoming tree. It didn’t think: I Am higher that they are. It wanted to wealk among them, To […]...
27. Heat O wind, rend open the heat, Cut apart the heat, Rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop Through this thick air Fruit cannot fall into heat That presses up and blunts The points of pears And rounds the grapes. Cut the heat Plough through it, Turning it on either side Of your path....
28. The Shame of Going Back The Shame of Going Back And the reason of your failure isn’t anybody’s fault When you haven’t got a billet, and the times are very slack, There is nothing that can spur you like the shame of going back; Crawling home with empty pockets, Going back hard-up; Oh! it’s then you learn the meaning of […]...
29. A Seed See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down, And through the Winter neglected lay, Uncoils two little green leaves and two brown, With tiny root taking hold on the clay As, lifting and strengthening day by day, It pushes red branchless, sprouts new leaves, And cell after cell the Power in it weaves Out of […]...
30. Killing The Love I am the love killer, I am murdering the music we thought so special, That blazed between us, over and over. I am murdering me, where I kneeled at your kiss. I am pushing knives through the hands That created two into one. Our hands do not bleed at this, They lie still in their […]...
31. Safe-home don’t be so lazy maisie maisie Don’t be so lazy please I know it’s snowing And a hard wind’s blowing But nobody knows At the rate we’re going What time we’ll get home tonight Keep to the path for me timothy timothy Keep to the path for me please My legs are aching And my […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. A Work Of Artifice The bonsai tree In the attractive pot Could have grown eighty feet tall On the side of a mountain Till split by lightning. But a gardener Carefully pruned it. It is nine inches high. Every day as he Whittles back the branches The gardener croons, It is your nature To be small and cozy, Domestic […]...
34. The Appology ‘Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule I am alone forbid to play the fool To follow through the Groves a wand’ring Muse And fain’d Idea’s for my pleasures chuse Why shou’d it in my Pen be held a fault Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought Whilst Lamia to […]...
35. The Trifler Death’s the lover that I’d be taking; Wild and fickle and fierce is he. Small’s his care if my heart be breaking- Gay young Death would have none of me. Hear them clack of my haste to greet him! No one other my mouth had kissed. I had dressed me in silk to meet him- […]...
36. Epitaph On A Disturber Of His Times We expected the violin’s finger on the upturned nerve; Its importunate cry, too laxly curved: And you drew us an oboe-outline, clean and acute; Unadorned statement, accurately carved. We expected the screen, the background for reverie Which cloudforms usefully weave: And you built the immaculate, adamant, blue-green steel Arch of a balanced wave. We expected […]...
37. Ode to the Goddess Ceres Dear Goddess of Corn, whom the ancients we know, (Among other odd whims of those comical bodies,) Adorn’d with somniferous poppies, to show, Thou wert always a true Country-gentleman’s Goddess. Behold in his best, shooting-jacket, before thee, An eloquent ‘Squire, who most humbly beseeches, Great Queen of the Mark-lane (if the thing doesn’t bore thee), […]...
38. No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest Sons of the mountains of Scotland, Welshmen of coomb and defile, Breed of the moors of England, Children of Erin’s green isle, We stand four square to the tempest, Whatever the battering hail- No foe shall gather our harvest, Or sit on our stockyard rail. Our women shall walk in honour, Our children shall know […]...
39. Good Friday O my chief good, How shall I measure out thy blood? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell? Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one star show’d thy first breath, Shall all thy death? Or shall each leaf, Which falls in Autumn, score a grief? Or […]...
40. At the Vietnam War Memorial Black granite stretches its harsh, tapering wings Up to pedestrian-level grass But sucks me down, here, at the intersection of names. I forgive, I must, though I wish something Could heal this wound in the earth. Behold, all theorists, the price of theory: Extreme unction by napalm and blood, Vets shipped home whole or in […]...