A Youth Mowing

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1. Mowing There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound And that was why it whispered and did […]...
2. The Last Mowing There’s a place called Far-away Meadow We never shall mow in again, Or such is the talk at the farmhouse: The meadow is finished with men. Then now is the chance for the flowers That can’t stand mowers and plowers. It must be now, through, in season Before the not mowing brings trees on, Before […]...
3. COMFORT TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth, She thinks not on What’s said or done In earth: She sees no tears, Or any tone Of thy deep groan She hears; Nor does she mind, Or think on’t now, That ever thou Wast kind: But changed above, […]...
4. John Horace Burleson I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art; There married the banker’s daughter, And later became president of the bank- Always looking forward to some leisure To write an epic novel of […]...
5. Youth And Beauty I bought a dishmop – Having no daughter – For they had twisted Fine ribbons of shining copper About white twine And made a tousled head Of it, fastened it Upon a turned ash stick Slender at the neck Straight, tall – When tied upright On the brass wallbracket To be a light for me […]...
6. Before Her Portrait In Youth As lovers, banished from their lady’s face And hopeless of her grace, Fashion a ghostly sweetness in its place, Fondly adore Some stealth-won cast attire she wore, A kerchief or a glove: And at the lover’s beck Into the glove there fleets the hand, Or at impetuous command Up from the kerchief floats the virgin […]...
7. Youth and Calm ‘Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There’s nothing can dismarble now The smoothness of that limpid brow. But is a calm like this, in truth, The crowning end of life and youth, And when this boon rewards the dead, Are all debts paid, has all been […]...
8. Picture Of A 23-Year-Old Youth Painted By His Friend Of The Same Age, An Amature He finished the painting yesterday noon. Now He studies it in detail. He has painted him in a Gray unbuttoned coat, a deep gray; without Any vest or any tie. With a rose-colored shirt; Open at the collar, so something might be seen Also of the beauty of his chest, of his neck. The right […]...
9. In Youth I have Known One How often we forget all time, when lone Admiring Nature’s universal throne; Her woods – her winds – her mountains – the intense Reply of Hers to Our intelligence! I. In youth I have known one with whom the Earth In secret communing held – as he with it, In daylight, and in beauty, from […]...
10. Virgin Youth Now and again All my body springs alive, And the life that is polarised in my eyes, That quivers between my eyes and mouth, Flies like a wild thing across my body, Leaving my eyes half-empty, and clamorous, Filling my still breasts with a flush and a flame, Gathering the soft ripples below my breast […]...
11. The limitations of youth I’d like to be a cowboy an’ ride a fiery hoss Way out into the big an’ boundless west; I’d kill the bears an’ catamounts an’ wolves I come across, An’ I’d pluck the bal’ head eagle from his nest! With my pistols at my side, I would roam the prarers wide, An’ to scalp […]...
12. Not yet 40, my beard is already white Not yet 40, my beard is already white. Not yet awake, my eyes are puffy and red, Like a child who has cried too much. What is more disagreeable Than last night’s wine? I’ll shave. I’ll stick my head in the cold spring and Look around at the pebbles. Maybe I can eat a can […]...
13. Youth and Art 1 It once might have been, once only: 2 We lodged in a street together, 3 You, a sparrow on the housetop lonely, 4 I, a lone she-bird of his feather. 5 Your trade was with sticks and clay, 6 You thumbed, thrust, patted and polished, 7 Then laughed ‘They will see some day 8 […]...
14. My Hero Bares His Nerves My hero bares his nerves along my wrist That rules from wrist to shoulder, Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost, Leans on my mortal ruler, The proud spine spurning turn and twist. And these poor nerves so wired to the skull Ache on the lovelorn paper I hug to love with my unruly […]...
15. Funeral Of Youth, The: Threnody The day that YOUTH had died, There came to his grave-side, In decent mourning, from the country’s ends, Those scatter’d friends Who had lived the boon companions of his prime, And laughed with him and sung with him and wasted, In feast and wine and many-crown’d carouse, The days and nights and dawnings of the […]...
16. The Funeral of Youth: Threnody The Day that Youth had died, There came to his grave-side, In decent mourning, from the country’s ends, Those scatter’d friends Who had lived the boon companions of his prime, And laughed with him and sung with him and wasted, In feast and wine and many-crown’d carouse, The days and nights and dawnings of the […]...
17. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
18. Morning Midday And Evening Sacrifice The dappled die-away Cheek and wimpled lip, The gold-wisp, the airy-grey Eye, all in fellowship- This, all this beauty blooming, This, all this freshness fuming, Give God while worth consuming. Both thought and thew now bolder And told by Nature: Tower; Head, heart, hand, heel, and shoulder That beat and breathe in power- This pride […]...
19. Middle-Ages I heard a clash, and a cry, And a horseman fleeing the wood. The moon hid in a cloud. Deep in shadow I stood. ВЂ˜Ugly work! ’ thought I, Holding my breath. ВЂ˜Men must be cruel and proud, ВЂ˜Jousting for death’. With gusty glimmering shone The moon; and the wind blew colder. A man went […]...
20. Invocation to Youth COME then, as ever, like the wind at morning! Joyous, O Youth, in the aged world renew Freshness to feel the eternities around it, Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew. The strong sun shines above thee: That strength, that radiance bring! If Winter come to Winter, When shall men hope for Spring?...
21. Pleading for and with Youth Sin has undone our wretched race; But Jesus has restored, And brought the sinner face to face With his forgiving Lord. This we repeat from year to year And press upon our youth; Lord, give them an attentive ear, Lord, save them by Thy truth! Blessings upon the rising race! Make this a happy hour, […]...
22. In Youth Milton, our noblest poet, in the grace Of youth, in those fair eyes and clustering hair, That brow untouched by one faint line of care, To mar its openness, we seem to trace The front of the first lord of the human race, Mid thine own Paradise portrayed so fair, Ere Sin or Sorrow scathed […]...
23. Age and Youth WE have left our youth behind: Earth is in its baby years: Void of wisdom cries the wind, And the sunlight knows no tears. When shall twilight feel the awe, All the rapt thought of the sage, And the lips of wind give law Drawn from out their lore of age? When shall earth begin […]...
24. The Youth By The Brook Beside the brook the boy reclined And wove his flowery wreath, And to the waves the wreath consigned The waves that danced beneath. “So fleet mine hours,” he sighed, “away Like waves that restless flow: And so my flowers of youth decay Like those that float below.” “Ask not why I, alone on earth, Am […]...
25. THE YOUTH AND THE MILLSTREAM [This sweet Ballad, and the one entitled The Maid of the Mill’s Repentance, were written on the occasion of a Visit paid by Goethe to Switzerland. The Maid of the Mill’s Treachery, To which the latter forms the sequel, was not written till the following Year.] YOUTH. SAY, sparkling streamlet, whither thou Art Going! With […]...
26. Youth and Love What does youth know of love? Little enough, I trow! He plucks the myrtle for his brow, For his forehead the rose. Nay, but of love It is not youth who knows....
27. Not Youth Pertains to Me NOT youth pertains to me, Nor delicatesse-I cannot beguile the time with talk; Awkward in the parlor, neither a dancer nor elegant; In the learn’d coterie sitting constrain’d and still-for learning. inures not to me; Beauty, knowledge, inure not to me-yet there are two or three things inure to me; I have nourish’d the wounded, […]...
28. My Lost Youth Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still: “A boy’s will is the wind’s will, And […]...
29. Youth And Age Verse, a Breeze ‘mid blossoms straying, Where HOPE clung feeding, like a bee Both were mine! Life went a-maying With NATURE, HOPE, and POESY, [Image][Image]When I was young! When I was young? Ah, woful WHEN! Ah! for the Change ‘twixt Now and Then! This breathing House not built with hands, This body that does me […]...
30. A Memory Of Youth The moments passed as at a play; I had the wisdom love brings forth; I had my share of mother-wit, And yet for all that I could say, And though I had her praise for it, A cloud blown from the cut-throat North Suddenly hid Love’s moon away. Believing every word I said, I praised […]...
31. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
32. The Grauballe Man As if he had been poured In tar, he lies On a pillow of turf And seems to weep The black river of himself. The grain of his wrists Is like bog oak, The ball of his heel Like a basalt egg. His instep has shrunk Cold as a swan’s foot Or a wet swamp […]...
33. The Dug-Out Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled, And one arm bent across your sullen, cold, Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you, Deep-shadowed from the candle’s guttering gold; And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder; Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head. . . . You […]...
34. A Man Young And Old: VII. The Friends Of His Youth Laughter not time destroyed my voice And put that crack in it, And when the moon’s pot-bellied I get a laughing fit, For that old Madge comes down the lane, A stone upon her breast, And a cloak wrapped about the stone, And she can get no rest With singing hush and hush-a-bye; She that […]...
35. A youth in apparel that glittered A youth in apparel that glittered Went to walk in a grim forest. There he met an assassin Attired all in garb of old days; He, scowling through the thickets, And dagger poised quivering, Rushed upon the youth. “Sir,” said this latter, “I am enchanted, believe me, To die, thus, In this medieval fashion, According […]...
36. Anthem For Doomed Youth What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them […]...
37. My Heart's In The Highlands Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the […]...
38. Left in immortal Youth Left in immortal Youth On that low Plain That hath nor Retrospection Nor Again Ransomed from years Sequestered from Decay Canceled like Dawn In comprehensive Day...
39. In My Youth I Was a Tireless Dancer But now I pass Graveyards in a car. The dead lie, Unsuperstitiously, With their feet toward me Please forgive me for Saying the tombstones would not Fancy their faces turned from the highway. Oh perish the thought I was thinking in that moment Newman Illinois The Saturday night dance What a life? Would I like […]...
40. Sonnet 96: Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; Both grace and faults are loved of more and less; Thou mak’st faults graces that to thee resort. As on the finger of a thronèd queen, The basest jewel will be well esteemed. So are those errors that […]...