Settling

Related poetry:

1. Each Day A Life I count each day a little life, With birth and death complete; I cloister it from care and strife And keep it sane and sweet. With eager eyes I greet the morn, Exultant as a boy, Knowing that I am newly born To wonder and to joy. And when the sunset splendours wane And ripe […]...
2. Florrie Because I was a wonton wild And welcomed many a lover, Who is the father of my child I wish I could discover. For though I know it is not right In tender arms to tarry, A barmaid has to be polite To Tom and Dick and Harry. My truest love was Poacher Jim: I […]...
3. Deceptions “Of course I was drugged, and so heavily I did not regain Consciousness until the next morning. I was horrified to Discover that I had been ruined, and for some days I was inconsolable, And cried like a child to be killed or sent back to my aunt.” Mayhew, London Labour and the London Poor […]...
4. Guilt The clock is frozen in the tower, The thickening fog with sooty smell Has blanketed the motor power Which turns the London streets to hell; And footsteps with their lonely sound Intensify the silence round. I haven’t hope. I haven’t faith. I live two lives and sometimes three. The lives I live make life a […]...
5. Sonnets 11: As To Some Lovely Temple, Tenantless As to some lovely temple, tenantless Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass, Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass Grown up between the stones, yet from excess Of grief hard driven, or great loneliness, The worshiper returns, and those who pass Marvel him crying on a name that was,- So is […]...
6. A PARANAETICALL, OR ADVISIVE VERSETO HIS FRIEND, MR JOHN WICKS Is this a life, to break thy sleep, To rise as soon as day doth peep? To tire thy patient ox or ass By noon, and let thy good days pass, Not knowing this, that Jove decrees Some mirth, t’ adulce man’s miseries? No; ’tis a life to have thine oil Without extortion from thy […]...
7. I ask of thee, love, nothing but relief I ask of thee, love, nothing but relief. Thou canst not bring the old days back again; For I was happy then, Not knowing heavenly joy, not knowing grief....
8. Days I am a Day. . . My sky is grey, My wind is wild, My sea high-piled: In year of days the first In misery. . . Oh pity me! I am a Day Accurst. “Sweet Day, not curst but blest: Behold upon my breast My baby born Your early morn. Safe in my arms […]...
9. Fate That you are fair or wise is vain, Or strong, or rich, or generous; You must have also the untaught strain That sheds beauty on the rose. There is a melody born of melody, Which melts the world into a sea. Toil could never compass it, Art its height could never hit, It came never […]...
10. London in July What ails my senses thus to cheat? What is it ails the place, That all the people in the street Should wear one woman’s face? The London trees are dusty-brown Beneath the summer sky; My love, she dwells in London town, Nor leaves it in July. O various and intricate maze, Wide waste of square […]...
11. Unthrift Ah, wasteful woman, she who may On her sweet self set her own price, Knowing men cannot choose but pay, How she has cheapen’d paradise; How given for nought her priceless gift, How spoil’d the bread and spill’d the wine, Which, spent with due, respective thrift, Had made brutes men, and men divine....
12. The Desolate Field Vast and grey, the sky Is a simulacrum To all but him whose days Are vast and grey and- In the tall, dried grasses A goat stirs With nozzle searching the ground. My head is in the air But who am I. . . ? -and my heart stops amazed At the thought of love […]...
13. Forgotten Master As you gaze beyond the bay With such wanness in your eyes, You who have out-stayed your day, Seeing other stars arise, Slender though your lifehold be, Still you dream beside the sea. We, alas! may live too long, Know the best part of us die; Echo of your even-song Hushes down the darkling sky. […]...
14. Tiny Warrior You never saw the spring my love Or the red tailed hawk circling high above On feathered wings my love You only knew the snow You never saw the prairie grasses bend and blow And undulate like the shimmering indigo sea You never saw me Your eyes were closed so tight They say you put […]...
15. The Christmas Goose Mr. Smiggs was a gentleman, And he lived in London town; His wife she was a good kind soul, And seldom known to frown. ‘Twas on Christmas eve, And Smiggs and his wife lay cosy in bed, When the thought of buying a goose Came into his head. So the next morning, Just as the […]...
16. Beautiful Nairn All ye tourists who wish to be away From the crowded city for a brief holiday; The town of Nairn is worth a visit, I do confess, And it’s only about fifteen miles from Inverness. And in the summer season it’s a very popular bathing-place, And the visitors from London and Edinburgh finds solace, As […]...
17. For The Anniversary Of My Death Every year without knowing it I have passed the day When the last fires will wave to me And the silence will set out Tireless traveller Like the beam of a lightless star Then I will no longer Find myself in life as in a strange garment Surprised at the earth And the love of […]...
18. Days What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days? Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields....
19. His Mind like Fabrics of the East His Mind like Fabrics of the East Displayed to the despair Of everyone but here and there An humble Purchaser For though his price was not of Gold More arduous there is That one should comprehend the worth Was all the price there was...
20. The Sergeant's Song WHEN Lawyers strive to heal a breach, And Parsons practise what they preach; Then Little Boney he’ll pounce down, And march his men on London town! Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lorum, Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lay! When Justices hold equal scales, And Rogues are only found in jails; Then Little Boney he’ll pounce down, And march his men on London town! […]...
21. On My Birthday, July 21 I, MY dear, was born to-day So all my jolly comrades say: They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth, And ask to celebrate my birth: Little, alas! my comrades know That I was born to pain and woe; To thy denial, to thy scorn, Better I had ne’er been born: I wish to die, even […]...
22. Immortality WE must pass like smoke or live within the spirit’s fire; For we can no more than smoke unto the flame return If our thought has changed to dream, our will unto desire, As smoke we vanish though the fire may burn. Lights of infinite pity star the grey dusk of our days: Surely here […]...
23. Could I but ride indefinite Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me And flirt all Day with Buttercups And marry whom I may And dwell a little everywhere Or better, run away With no Police to follow Or chase Him if He do Till He should […]...
24. Purity Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing That thy living touch is upon all my limbs. I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing That thou art that truth which has kindled the light of reason in my mind. I shall ever try […]...
25. Sleepyheads SLEEP is a maker of makers. Birds sleep. Feet cling to a perch. Look at the balance. Let the legs loosen, the backbone untwist, the head go heavy over, the whole works tumbles a done bird off the perch. Fox cubs sleep. The pointed head curls round into hind legs and tail. It is a […]...
26. The Sacrifices Twin boys I bore, my joy, my care, My hope, my life they were to me; Their father, dashing, debonair, Fell fighting at Gallipoli. His daring gallantry, no doubt, They ‘herited in equal share: So when the Second War broke out, With eagerness they chose the air. Said Dick: “The sea’s too bally slow; A […]...
27. LONDON ROSES “ROWSES, Rowses! Penny a bunch!” they tell you Slattern girls in Trafalgar, eager to sell you. Roses, roses, red in the Kensington sun, Holland Road, High Street, Bayswater, see you and smell you Roses of London town, red till the summer is done. Roses, roses, locust and lilac, perfuming West End, East End, wondrously budding […]...
28. Prayer XXIII Then a priestess said, “Speak to us of Prayer.” And he answered, saying: You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance. For what is prayer but the expansion of yourself into the living ether? And if […]...
29. Dream Song 88: Op. posth. no. 11 In slack times visit I the violent dead And pick their awful brains. Most seem to feel Nothing is secret more To my disdain I find, when we who fled Cherish the knowings of both worlds, conceal More, beat on the floor, Where Bhain is stagnant, dear of Henry’s friends, Yellow with cancer, paper-thin, & […]...
30. Her Death And After ‘TWAS a death-bed summons, and forth I went By the way of the Western Wall, so drear On that winter night, and sought a gate The home, by Fate, Of one I had long held dear. And there, as I paused by her tenement, And the trees shed on me their rime and hoar, I […]...
31. Ho, everyone that thirsteth Ho, everyone that thirsteth And hath the price to give, Come to the stolen waters, Drink and your soul shall live. Come to the stolen waters, And leap the guarded pale, And pull the flower in season Before desire shall fail. It shall not last for ever, No more than earth and skies; But he […]...
32. Contemplating Hell Contemplating Hell, as I once heard it, My brother Shelley found it to be a place Much like the city of London. I, Who do not live in London, but in Los Angeles, Find, contemplating Hell, that is Must be even more like Los Angeles. Also in Hell, I do not doubt it, there exist […]...
33. Said Grenfell to my Spirit Said Grenfell to my spirit, “You’ve been writing very free Of the charms of other places, and you don’t remember me. You have claimed another native place and think it’s Nature’s law, Since you never paid a visit to a town you never saw: So you sing of Mudgee Mountains, willowed stream and grassy flat: […]...
34. So the Eyes accost and sunder So the Eyes accost and sunder In an Audience Stamped occasionally forever So may Countenance Entertain without addressing Countenance of One In a Neighboring Horizon Gone as soon as known...
35. Portrait d'Une Femme Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea, London has swept about you this score years And bright ships left you this or that in fee: Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things, Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price. Great minds have sought you – lacking someone else. You have been second […]...
36. Psalm 144 part 2 v.3-6 C. M. The vanity of man and condescension of God. Lord, what is man, poor feeble man, Born of the earth at first? His life a shadow, light and vain, Still hasting to the dust. O what is feeble, dying man, Or any of his race, That God should make it his concern To […]...
37. Fellow Citizens I DRANK musty ale at the Illinois Athletic Club with The millionaire manufacturer of Green River butter One night And his face had the shining light of an old-time Quaker, He spoke of a beautiful daughter, and I knew he had A peace and a happiness up his sleeve somewhere. Then I heard Jim Kirch […]...
38. Music on Christmas Morning Music I love -­ but never strain Could kindle raptures so divine, So grief assuage, so conquer pain, And rouse this pensive heart of mine -­ As that we hear on Christmas morn, Upon the wintry breezes borne. Though Darkness still her empire keep, And hours must pass, ere morning break; From troubled dreams, or […]...
39. Sonnet To Liberty These are the letters which Endymion wrote To one he loved in secret, and apart. And now the brawlers of the auction mart Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note, Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote The merchant’s price. I think they love not art Who break the crystal of a poet’s […]...
40. The Bards Of Olden Time Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled, Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind up to heaven, And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of song? Ah! the singers still live; the actions only are wanting, […]...