Ballad of Another Ophelia

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1. The Duck Behold the duck. It does not cluck. A cluck it lacks. It quacks. It is specially fond Of a puddle or pond. When it dines or sups, It bottoms ups....
2. In the Rangitaki Valley Valley of waving broom, O lovely, lovely light, O hear of the world, red-gold! Breast high in the blossom I stand; It beats about me like waves Of a magical, golden sea The barren heart of the world Alive at the kiss of the sun, The yellow mantle of Summer Flung over a laughing land, […]...
3. The Crossed Apple I’ve come to give you fruit from out my orchard, Of wide report. I have trees there that bear me many apples. Of every sort: Clear, streaked; red and russet; green and golden; Sour and sweet. This apple’s from a tree yet unbeholden, Where two kinds meet,- So that this side is red without a […]...
4. Ballad Of The Despairing Husband My wife and I lived all alone, Contention was our only bone. I fought with her, she fought with me, And things went on right merrily. But now I live here by myself With hardly a damn thing on the shelf, And pass my days with little cheer Since I have parted from my dear. […]...
5. Apples of Hesperides Glinting golden through the trees, Apples of Hesperides! Through the moon-pierced warp of night Shoot pale shafts of yellow light, Swaying to the kissing breeze Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming, Apples of Hesperides! Far and lofty yet they glimmer, Apples of Hesperides! Blinded by their radiant shimmer, Pushing forward just for these; Dew-besprinkled, bramble-marred, Poor duped […]...
6. Ophelia My locks are shorn for sorrow Of love which may not be; Tomorrow and tomorrow Are plotting cruelty. The winter wind tangles These ringlets half-grown, The sun sprays with spangles And rays like his own. Oh, quieter and colder Is the stream; he will wait; When my curls touch my shoulder He will comb them […]...
7. A Ballad of Burdens The burden of fair women. Vain delight, And love self-slain in some sweet shameful way, And sorrowful old age that comes by night As a thief comes that has no heart by day, And change that finds fair cheeks and leaves them grey, And weariness that keeps awake for hire, And grief that says what […]...
8. Pastoral If it were only still!- With far away the shrill Crying of a cock; Or the shaken bell From a cow’s throat Moving through the bushes; Or the soft shock Of wizened apples falling From an old tree In a forgotten orchard Upon the hilly rock! Oh, grey hill, Where the grazing herd Licks the […]...
9. Beautiful Old Age It ought to be lovely to be old To be full of the peace that comes of experience And wrinkled ripe fulfilment. The wrinkled smile of completeness that follows a life Lived undaunted and unsoured with accepted lies They would ripen like apples, and be scented like pippins In their old age. Soothing, old people […]...
10. The Ballad Of The Drover Across the stony ridges, Across the rolling plain, Young Harry Dale, the drover, Comes riding home again. And well his stock-horse bears him, And light of heart is he, And stoutly his old pack-horse Is trotting by his knee. Up Queensland way with cattle He travelled regions vast; And many months have vanished Since home-folk […]...
11. The Ballad of the Carpet Bag Ho! Darkies, don’t you hear dose voters cryin’ Pack dat carpet bag! You must get to de Poll, you must get there flyin’; Pack dat carpet bag! You must travel by de road, you must travel by de train, And the things what you’ve done you will have to explain, And the things what you’ve […]...
12. A Caution To Everybody Consider the auk; Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk. Consider man, who may well become extinct Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked....
13. On Growing Old Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying; My dog and I are old, too old for roving. Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying, Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving. I take the book and gather to the fire, Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute The clock […]...
14. The Ballad Of The Ice-Worm Cocktail To Dawson Town came Percy Brown from London on the Thames. A pane of glass was in his eye, and stockings on his stems. Upon the shoulder of his coat a leather pad he wore, To rest his deadly rifle when it wasn’t seeking gore; The which it must have often been, for Major Percy […]...
15. The Song Of Wandering Aengus I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. […]...
16. After Apple-Picking My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I […]...
17. The Ballad Of Gum-Boot Ben He was an old prospector with a vision bleared and dim. He asked me for a grubstake, and the same I gave to him. He hinted of a hidden trove, and when I made so bold To question his veracity, this is the tale he told. “I do not seek the copper streak, nor yet […]...
18. Wind in the Beechwood The glorying forest shakes and swings with glancing Of boughs that dip and strain; young, slanting sprays Beckon and shift like lissom creatures dancing, While the blown beechwood streams with drifting rays. Rooted in steadfast calm, grey stems are seen Like weather-beaten masts; the wood, unfurled, Seems as a ship with crowding sails of green […]...
19. The delectable ballad of the waller lot Up yonder in Buena Park There is a famous spot, In legend and in history Yclept the Waller Lot. There children play in daytime And lovers stroll by dark, For ‘t is the goodliest trysting-place In all Buena Park. Once on a time that beauteous maid, Sweet little Sissy Knott, Took out her pretty doll […]...
20. Disillusionment Of Ten O'clock The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings, Or yellow with blue rings. None of them are strange, With socks of lace And beaded ceintures. People are not going To dream of baboons and periwinkles. Only, here and there, an old sailor, Drunk […]...
21. Faure's Second Piano Quartet On a day like this the rain comes Down in fat and random drops among The ailanthus leaves -“the tree Of Heaven” – the leaves that on moon- Lit nights shimmer black and blade- Shaped at this third-floor window. And there are bunches of small green Knobs, buds, crowded together. The Rapid music fills in […]...
22. Ballad of the Old Cypress In front of the temple of Chu-ko Liang there is an old cypress. Its branches Are like green bronze; its roots like rocks; around its great girth of forty Spans its rimy bark withstands the washing of the rain. Its jet-colored top Rises two thousand feet to greet the sky. Prince and statesman have long […]...
23. Thompson's Lunch Room Grand Central Station Study in Whites Wax-white Floor, ceiling, walls. Ivory shadows Over the pavement Polished to cream surfaces By constant sweeping. The big room is coloured like the petals Of a great magnolia, And has a patina Of flower bloom Which makes it shine dimly Under the electric lamps. Chairs are ranged in rows Like sepia seeds […]...
24. Rich Days Welcome to you rich Autumn days, Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; When golden stocks are seen in fields, All standing arm-in-arm entwined; And gallons of sweet cider seen On trees in apples red and green. With mellow pears that cheat our teeth, Which melt that tongues may suck them in; With blue-black damsons, yellow […]...
25. From Spring Days To Winter (For Music) In the glad springtime when leaves were green, O merrily the throstle sings! I sought, amid the tangled sheen, Love whom mine eyes had never seen, O the glad dove has golden wings! Between the blossoms red and white, O merrily the throstle sings! My love first came into my sight, O perfect vision of […]...
26. To Victory Return to greet me, colours that were my joy, Not in the woeful crimson of men slain, But shining as a garden; come with the streaming Banners of dawn and sundown after rain. I want to fill my gaze with blue and silver, Radiance through living roses, spires of green Rising in young-limbed copse and […]...
27. Careers Father is quite the greatest poet That ever lived anywhere. You say you’re going to write great music – I chose that first: it’s unfair. Besides, now I can’t be the greatest painter and do Christ and angels, or lovely pears and apples and grapes on a green dish, or storms at sea, or anything […]...
28. 520. Ballad on Mr. Heron's Election-No. 3 ‘TWAS in the seventeen hunder year O’ grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae’est man Of ony man alive. In March the three-an’-twentieth morn, The sun raise clear an’ bright; But oh! I was a waefu’ man, Ere to-fa’ o’ the night. Yerl Galloway lang did rule this land, Wi’ equal right and […]...
29. The West Wind IT’S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills. And April’s in the west wind, and daffodils. It’s a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine, […]...
30. SYMPHONY IN YELLOW An omnibus across the bridge Crawls like a yellow butterfly And, here and there, a passer-by Shows like a little restless midge. Big barges full of yellow hay Are moored against the shadowy wharf, And, like a yellow silken scarf, The thick fog hangs along the quay. The yellow leaves begin to fade And flutter […]...
31. A Ballad Of Suicide The gallows in my garden, people say, Is new and neat and adequately tall; I tie the noose on in a knowing way As one that knots his necktie for a ball; But just as all the neighbours-on the wall – Are drawing a long breath to shout “Hurray!” The strangest whim has seized me. […]...
32. The Ship of Death I Now it is autumn and the falling fruit And the long journey towards oblivion. The apples falling like great drops of dew To bruise themselves an exit from themselves. And it is time to go, to bid farewell To one’s own self, and find an exit From the fallen self. II Have you built […]...
33. 496. Song-My Nanie's awa NOW in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays, And listens the lambkins that bleat o’er her braes; While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw, But to me it’s delightless-my Nanie’s awa. The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violetes bathe in the weet o’ the morn; They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly […]...
34. A Ballad upon a Wedding I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen, O, things without compare! Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake or fair. At Charing Cross, hard by the way Where we, thou know’st, do sell our hay, There is a […]...
35. The Rose Sweet serene sky-like flower, Haste to adorn her bower; From thy long cloudy bed Shoot forth thy damask head! New-startled blush of Flora, The grief of pale Aurora, Who will contest no more, Haste, haste to strew her floor! Vermilion ball that’s given From lip to lip in heaven, Love’s couch’s coverlet, Haste, haste to […]...
36. Trees In The Garden Ah in the thunder air How still the trees are! And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent Hardly looses even a last breath of perfume. And the ghostly, creamy coloured little tree of leaves White, ivory white among the rambling greens How evanescent, variegated elder, she hesitates on the green grass As if, […]...
37. 551. Ballad on Mr. Heron's Election-No. 4 WHA will buy my troggin, fine election ware, Broken trade o’ Broughton, a’ in high repair? Chorus.-Buy braw troggin frae the banks o’ Dee; Wha wants troggin let him come to me. There’s a noble Earl’s fame and high renown, For an auld sang-it’s thought the gudes were stown- Buy braw troggin, &c. Here’s the […]...
38. Looking Down in a Spring-rain Round a turn of the Qin Fortress winds the Wei River, And Yellow Mountain foot-hills enclose the Court of China; Past the South Gate willows comes the Car of Many Bells On the upper Palace-Garden Road-a solid length of blossom; A Forbidden City roof holds two phoenixes in cloud; The foliage of spring shelters multitudes […]...
39. The Ballad Of Hank The Finn Now Fireman Flynn met Hank the Finn where lights of Lust-land glow; “Let’s leave,” says he, “the lousy sea, and give the land a show. I’m fed up to the molar mark with wallopin’ the brine; I feel the bloody barnacles a-carkin’ on me spine. Let’s hit the hard-boiled North a crack, where creeks are […]...
40. The Map Land lies in water; it is shadowed green. Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges Showing the line of long sea-weeded ledges Where weeds hang to the simple blue from green. Or does the land lean down to lift the sea from under, Drawing it unperturbed around itself? Along the fine tan sandy shelf […]...