By Circumstances Fed

Related poetry:

1. All Circumstances are the Frame All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent The Light His Action, and the Dark The Leisure of His Will In Him Existence serve or set A Force illegible....
2. Spring At the first hour, it was as if one said, “Arise.” At the second hour, it was as if one said, “Go forth.” And the winter constellations that are like patient ox-eyes Sank below the white horizon at the north. At the third hour, it was as if one said, “I thirst”; At the fourth […]...
3. In the Trenches I snatched two poppies From the parapet’s ledge, Two bright red poppies That winked on the ledge. Behind my ear I stuck one through, One blood red poppy I gave to you. The sandbags narrowed And screwed out our jest, And tore the poppy You had on your breast… Down – a shell – O! […]...
4. Maids In May Three maids there were in meadow bright, The eldest less then seven; Their eyes were dancing with delight, And innocent as Heaven. Wild flowers they wound with tender glee, Their cheeks with rapture rosy; All radiant they smiled at me, When I besought a posy. She gave me a columbine, And one a poppy brought […]...
5. Symphony In Red Within the church The solemn priests advance, And the sunlight, stained by the heavy windows, Dyes a yet richer red the scarlet banners And the scarlet robes of the young boys that bear them, And the thoughts of one of these are far away, With carmined lips pouting an invitation, Are with his love – […]...
6. Sonnet XIII I fancied, while you stood conversing there, Superb, in every attitude a queen, Her ermine thus Boadicea bare, So moved amid the multitude Faustine. My life, whose whole religion Beauty is, Be charged with sin if ever before yours A lesser feeling crossed my mind than his Who owning grandeur marvels and adores. Nay, rather […]...
7. In The Poppy Field Mad Patsy said, he said to me, That every morning he could see An angel walking on the sky; Across the sunny skies of morn He threw great handfuls far and nigh Of poppy seed among the corn; And then, he said, the angels run To see the poppies in the sun. A poppy is […]...
8. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
9. Poem (Faithful to your commands, o consciousness) Poem Faithful to your commands, o consciousness, o Beating wings, I studied The roses and the muses of reality, The deceptions and the deceptive elation of the redness of the growing morning, And all the greened and thomed variety of the vines of error, which begin by promising Everything and more than everything, and then […]...
10. The Disappointment In tears to her mother poor Harriet came, Let us listen to hear what she says: “O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain, We cannot go out in the chaise. “All the week I have long’d for this holiday so, And fancied the minutes were hours; And now that I’m dress’d and all […]...
11. Sonnets 08: And You As Well Must Die, Beloved Du And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head, This body of flame and steel, before the gust Of Death, or under his autumnal frost, Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead Than the first leaf that fell, […]...
12. There is another Loneliness There is another Loneliness That many die without Not want of friend occasions it Or circumstances of Lot But nature, sometimes, sometimes thought And whoso it befall Is richer than could be revealed By mortal numeral...
13. The Little Garden A little garden on a bleak hillside Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow Lies far into the spring. The sun’s pale glow Is scarcely able to melt patches wide About the single rose bush. All denied Of nature’s tender ministries. But no, For wonder-working faith has made it blow With flowers many hued and […]...
14. I send you a decrepit flower I send you a decrepit flower That nature sent to me At parting she was going south And I designed to stay Her motive for the souvenir If sentiment for me Or circumstances prudential Withheld invincibly...
15. In Memory of Anyone Unknown to Me At this particular time I have no one Particular person to grieve for, though there must Be many, many unknown ones going to dust Slowly, not remembered for what they have done Or left undone. For these, then, I will grieve Being impartial, unable to deceive. How they lived, or died, is quite unknown, And, […]...
16. This is the place they hoped before This is the place they hoped before, Where I am hoping now. The seed of disappointment grew Within a capsule gay, Too distant to arrest the feet That walk this plank of balm Before them lies escapeless sea The way is closed they came....
17. In The Same Space The surroundings of home, centers, neighorhood Which I see and where I walk; for years and years. I have created you in joy and in sorrows: With so many circumstances, with so many things. And you have become all feeling, for me....
18. Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o’ertake me in my way, Hiding thy brav’ry in their rotten smoke? ‘Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such […]...
19. Sonnet XXXIV Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o’ertake me in my way, Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? ‘Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such […]...
20. The Tree I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bow And that god-feasting couple old That grew elm-oak amid the wold. ‘Twas not until the gods had been Kindly entreated, and been brought within Unto the hearth of their heart’s home That […]...
21. To My Own Minature Picture Taken At Two Years Of Age And I was once like this! that glowing cheek Was mine, those pleasure-sparkling eyes, that brow Smooth as the level lake, when not a breeze Dies o’er the sleeping surface! twenty years Have wrought strange alteration! Of the friends Who once so dearly prized this miniature, And loved it for its likeness, some are gone […]...
22. A Deep Sworn Vow Others because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, Suddenly I meet your face....
23. Without a smile Without a Throe Without a smile Without a Throe A Summer’s soft Assemblies go To their entrancing end Unknown for all the times we met Estranged, however intimate What a dissembling Friend...
24. 1861 AARM’D year! year of the struggle! No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year! Not you as some pale poetling, seated at a desk, lisping cadenzas piano; But as a strong man, erect, clothed in blue clothes, advancing, carrying a rifle on your shoulder, With well-gristled body and sunburnt face and hands-with […]...
25. Paudeen Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite Of our old paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind Among the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light; Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought That on the lonely height where all are in God’s eye, There […]...
26. He Said To crawl toward the machine guns Except to freeze For explosions and flares. It was still ninety degrees At night in North Carolina, August, rain and all. The tracer bullets wanted Our asses, which we swore to keep Down, and the highlight Of this preposterous exercise Was finding myself in mud And water during flares. I […]...
27. Late Autumn In Venice (After Rilke) The city floats no longer like a bait To hook the nimble darting summer days. The glazed and brittle palaces pulsate and radiate And glitter. Summer’s garden sways, A heap of marionettes hanging down and dangled, Leaves tired, torn, turned upside down and strangled: Until from forest depths, from bony leafless trees A […]...
28. If I'm lost now If I’m lost now That I was found Shall still my transport be That once on me those Jasper Gates Blazed open suddenly That in my awkward gazing face The Angels softly peered And touched me with their fleeces, Almost as if they cared I’m banished now you know it How foreign that can be […]...
29. The inundation of the Spring The inundation of the Spring Enlarges every soul It sweeps the tenement away But leaves the Water whole In which the soul at first estranged Seeks faintly for its shore But acclimated pines no more For that Peninsula...
30. A Noon Song There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon; But who will give praise to the fulness of light, And sing us a song of the glory of noon? Oh, the high noon, the clear noon, The noon with golden crest; When the blue […]...
31. Sonnet 120: That you were once unkind befriends me now That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel. For if you were by my unkindness shaken As I by yours, y’have passed a hell of time, And I, a tyrant, have […]...
32. The Sash The first ones were attached to my dress At the waist, one on either side, Right at the point where hands could clasp you and Pick you up, as if you were a hot Squeeze bottle of tree syrup, and the Sashes that emerged like axil buds from the Angles of the waist were used […]...
33. TRUTH? There are 16 million shades of grey There is no black There is no white You have to draw your own line It may or may not be straight There are always mitigating circumstances Judgement can only be based On passed-down wisdom and self-experience Stopping to take stock Is not an option You can never […]...
34. Charms She walks as lightly as the fly Skates on the water in July. To hear her moving petticoat For me is music’s highest note. Stones are not heard, when her feet pass, No more than tumps of moss or grass. When she sits still, she’s like the flower To be a butterfly next hour. The […]...
35. The Bugler's First Communion A buglar boy from barrack (it is over the hill There)-boy bugler, born, he tells me, of Irish Mother to an English sire (he Shares their best gifts surely, fall how things will), This very very day came down to us after a boon he on My late being there begged of me, overflowing Boon […]...
36. Vers Demode For one, the amaryllis and the rose; The poppy, sweet as never lilies are; The ripen’d vine, that beckons as it blows; The dancing star. For one, the trodden rosemary and rue; The bowl, dipt ever in the purple stream And, for the other one, a fairer due- Sleep, and no dream....
37. From The Graveyard By The Sea (After Valery) This hushed surface where the doves parade Amid the pines vibrates, amid the graves; Here the noon’s justice unites all fires when The sea aspires forever to begin again and again. O what a gratification comes after long meditation O satisfaction, after long meditation or ratiocination Upon the calm of the gods Upon […]...
38. Term At the last minute a word is waiting Not heard that way before and not to be Repeated or ever be remembered One that always had been a household word Used in speaking of the ordinary Everyday recurrences of living Not newly chosen or long considered Or a matter for comment afterward Who would ever […]...
39. TO DIANEME I could but see thee yesterday Stung by a fretful bee; And I the javelin suck’d away, And heal’d the wound in thee. A thousand thorns, and briars, and stings I have in my poor breast; Yet ne’er can see that salve which brings My passions any rest. As Love shall help me, I admire […]...
40. What Is Life? And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream. Its length? A minute’s pause, a moment’s thought. And Happiness? A bubble on the stream, That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought. And what is Hope? The puffing gale of morn, That […]...