The Elves

Related poetry:

1. Fairy Song The moonlight fades from flower and rose And the stars dim one by one; The tale is told, the song is sung, And the Fairy feast is done. The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers, And sings to them, soft and low. The early birds erelong will wake: ‘T is time for the Elves to go. […]...
2. Sonnet Oh for a poet-for a beacon bright To rift this changless glimmer of dead gray; To spirit back the Muses, long astray, And flush Parnassus with a newer light; To put these little sonnet-men to flight Who fashion, in a shrewd mechanic way, Songs without souls, that flicker for a day, To vanish in irrevocable […]...
3. To George Sand: A Recognition TRUE genius, but true woman! dost deny The woman’s nature with a manly scorn And break away the gauds and armlets worn By weaker women in captivity? Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry Is sobbed in by a woman’s voice forlorn, Thy woman’s hair, my sister, all unshorn Floats back dishevelled strength in agony Disproving […]...
4. The British We are a people living in shells and moving Crablike; reticent, awkward, deeply suspicious; Watching the world from a corner of half-closed eyelids, Afraid lest someone show that he hates or loves us, Afraid lest someone weep in the railway train. We are coiled and clenched like a foetus clad in armour. We hold our […]...
5. Her Kind I have gone out, a possessed witch, Haunting the black air, braver at night; Dreaming evil, I have done my hitch Over the plain houses, light by light: Lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind. I have found the warm caves in […]...
6. Drink To Her Drink to her who long Hath waked the poet’s sigh, The girl who gave to song What gold could never buy. Oh! woman’s heart was made For minstrel hands alone; By other fingers play’d, It yields not half the tone. Then here’s to her who long Hath waked the poet’s sigh, The girl who gave […]...
7. 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 […]...
8. The Laughter Of Women The laughter of women sets fire To the Halls of Injustice And the false evidence burns To a beautiful white lightness It rattles the Chambers of Congress And forces the windows wide open So the fatuous speeches can fly out The laughter of women wipes the mist From the spectacles of the old; It infects […]...
9. Year's End for Audre Lorde and Sonny Wainwright Twice in my quickly disappearing forties Someone called while someone I loved and I were Making love to tell me another woman had died of cancer. Seven years apart, and two different lovers: Underneath the numbers, how lives are braided, How those women’s death and lives, lived and died, […]...
10. The Song Of The Old Mother I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow; And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till stars are beginning to blink and peep; And the young lie long and dream in their bed Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head, […]...
11. The Time I've Lost In Wooing The time I’ve lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light that lies In woman’s eyes, Has been my heart’s undoing. Tho’ Wisdom oft has sought me, I scorn’d the lore she brought me, My only books Were women’s looks, And folly’s all they taught me. Her smile when Beauty granted, I hung with […]...
12. Spanish Dancer As in one’s hand a lighted match blinds you before It comes aflame and sends out brilliant flickering Tongues to every side so, within the ring of the Spectators, her dance begins in hasty, heated rhythms And spreads itself darting flames around. And suddenly the dance is altogether flame! With a fierce glance she sets […]...
13. C. L. M IN the dark womb where I began My mother’s life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her. Down in the darkness of the grave She cannot see the life she […]...
14. Sonnet XX A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling, […]...
15. Sonnet 20: A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, […]...
16. THE FIRST MONTH OF THE YEAR A page of the ‘Kelmscott’ Chaucer Seen through out cottage window When the Pennines were blind with snow Flurrying round the stones. The fire was low when I began to blow That single flicker to a flame, Was I too late, I wondered, the ‘poet in name’ Whose mind runs endlessly As fingers through an […]...
17. Night Stuff LISTEN a while, the moon is a lovely woman, a lonely woman, lost in a silver dress, lost in a circus rider’s silver dress. Listen a while, the lake by night is a lonely woman, a lovely woman, circled with birches and pines mixing their green and white among stars shattered in spray clear nights. […]...
18. Love and the Gentle Heart Love and the gentle heart are one thing, Just as the poet says in his verse, Each from the other one as well divorced As reason from the mind’s reasoning. Nature craves love, and then creates love king, And makes the heart a palace where he’ll stay, Perhaps a shorter or a longer day, Breathing […]...
19. 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. […]...
20. Moon Fishing When the moon was full they came to the water. Some with pitchforks, some with rakes, Some with sieves and ladles, And one with a silver cup. And they fished til a traveler passed them and said, “Fools, To catch the moon you must let your women Spread their hair on the water Even the […]...
21. Elizabeth Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so doing Besides my innate love of contradiction; Each poet – if a poet – in pursuing The muses thro’ their bowers […]...
22. Winter-Time Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress. Close by the jolly fire I […]...
23. Remembered Women FOR a woman’s face remembered as a spot of quick light on the flat land of dark night, For this memory of one mouth and a forehead they go on in the gray rain and the mud, they go on among the boots and guns. The horizon ahead is a thousand fang flashes, it is […]...
24. Pals Take a hold now On the silver handles here, Six silver handles, One for each of his old pals. Take hold And lift him down the stairs, Put him on the rollers Over the floor of the hearse. Take him on the last haul, To the cold straight house, The level even house, To the […]...
25. To Kathleen STILL must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to Such things as flowers and song and you; Still as of old his being give In Beauty’s name, while she may live, Beauty that may not die as long As there are flowers and you and […]...
26. Out of Sight They held a polo meeting at a little country town, And all the local sportsmen came to win themselves renown. There came two strangers with a horse, and I am much afraid They both belonged to what is called “the take-you-down brigade”. They said their horse could jump like fun, and asked an amateur To […]...
27. Iva's Pantoum We pace each other for a long time. I packed my anger with the beef jerky. You are the baby on the mountain. I am In a cold stream where I led you. I packed my anger with the beef jerky. You are the woman sticking her tongue out In a cold stream where I […]...
28. The Homebody There still are kindly things for me to know, Who am afraid to dream, afraid to feel- This little chair of scrubbed and sturdy deal, This easy book, this fire, sedate and slow. And I shall stay with them, nor cry the woe Of wounds across my breast that do not heal; Nor wish that […]...
29. Let Evening Come Let the light of late afternoon Shine through chinks in the barn, moving Up the bales as the sun moves down. Let the cricket take up chafing As a woman takes up her needles And her yarn. Let evening come. Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned In long grass. Let the stars appear And […]...
30. THE DEATH OF ART “Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you.” -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam poetry “the death of art.” I am not a poet. I want to be rich and buy things for my family. Besides, I am sort of popular and can honestly say I’ve had a great […]...
31. Little Words When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf, Nor singing sea at night, nor silver birds; And I can only stare, and shape my grief In little words. I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown The bitter woe that racks my cords apart. The weary pen that sets my sorrow down Feeds at my […]...
32. Song of the Forge The forge-fire sets a glow in the heavens, The hammer thunders, showering the smoke with sparks. A ruddy smithy, the white face of the moon, And the hammer, ringing down cold dark canyons....
33. Sonnet 30 (Fire And Ice) My love is like to ice, and I to fire: How comes it then that this her cold so great Is not dissolv’d through my so hot desire, But harder grows, the more I her entreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat Is not delayed by her heart frozen cold, But that I […]...
34. Ice and Fire My love is like to ice, and I to fire: How comes it then that this her cold so great Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But harder grows the more I her entreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold, But that I burn […]...
35. Several Questions Answered What is it men in women do require? The lineaments of Gratified Desire. What is it women do in men require? The lineaments of Gratified Desire. The look of love alarms Because ’tis fill’d with fire; But the look of soft deceit Shall Win the lover’s hire. Soft Deceit & Idleness, These are Beauty’s sweetest […]...
36. Fire Pages I WILL read ashes for you, if you ask me. I will look in the fire and tell you from the gray lashes And out of the red and black tongues and stripes, I will tell how fire comes And how fire runs far as the sea....
37. The Wandering Bard What life like that of the bard can be The wandering bard, who roams as free As the mountain lark that o’er him sings, And, like that lark a music brings, Within him, where’er he comes or goes A fount that for ever flows! The world’s to him like some playground, Where fairies dance their […]...
38. A Song of an Autumn Night Under the crescent moon a light autumn dew Has chilled the robe she will not change And she touches a silver lute all night, Afraid to go back to her empty room....
39. River And Sea Under the light of the silver moon We two sat, when our hearts were young; The night was warm with the breath of June, And loud from the meadow the cricket sung, And darker and deeper, oh, love, than the sea, Were your dear eyes, as they beamed to me. The moon hung clear, and […]...
40. Phenomenal Woman Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m […]...