Indian Summer

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1. Indian Summer Like a deep blue wave Of passion You shore into the room Where I sit waiting quietly, Open-booked. We have moved through days, Loss, pain To hold this moment, This picture postcard seascape Of gentle harbouring. You say ‘I knew you were here I could smell you’ And effortlessly I sway To seal my fate. […]...
2. My Indian Summer Here in the Autumn of my days My life is mellowed in a haze. Unpleasant sights are none to clear, Discordant sounds I hardly hear. Infirmities like buffers soft Sustain me tranquilly aloft. I’m deaf to duffers, blind to bores, Peace seems to percolate my pores. I fold my hands, keep quiet mind, In dogs […]...
3. Indian Summer A soft veil dims the tender skies, And half conceals from pensive eyes The bronzing tokens of the fall; A calmness broods upon the hills, And summer’s parting dream distills A charm of silence over all. The stacks of corn, in brown array, Stand waiting through the placid day, Like tattered wigwams on the plain; […]...
4. An Indian Summer Day on the Prarie (IN THE BEGINNING) THE sun is a huntress young, The sun is a red, red joy, The sun is an indian girl, Of the tribe of the Illinois. (MID-MORNING) The sun is a smouldering fire, That creeps through the high gray plain, And leaves not a bush of cloud To blossom with flowers of rain. […]...
5. A Door just opened on a street A Door just opened on a street I lost was passing by An instant’s Width of Warmth disclosed And Wealth and Company. The Door as instant shut And I I lost was passing by Lost doubly but by contrast most Informing misery...
6. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
7. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
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. IN SUMMER How plain and height With dewdrops are bright! How pearls have crown’d The plants all around! How sighs the breeze Thro’ thicket and trees! How loudly in the sun’s clear rays The sweet birds carol forth their lays! But, ah! above, Where saw I my love, Within her room, Small, mantled in gloom, Enclosed around, […]...
10. A Summer Night HER mist of primroses within her breast Twilight hath folded up, and o’er the west, Seeking remoter valleys long hath gone, Not yet hath come her sister of the dawn. Silence and coolness now the earth enfold, Jewels of glittering green, long mists of gold, Hazes of nebulous silver veil the height, And shake in […]...
11. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
12. Roundel She’s passing fair; but so demure is she, So quiet is her gown, so smooth her hair, That few there are who note her and agree She’s passing fair. Yet when was ever beauty held more rare Than simple heart and maiden modesty? What fostered charms with virtue could compare? Alas, no lover ever stops […]...
13. The Indian Upon God I passed along the water’s edge below the humid trees, My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees, My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moor-fowl pace All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak: […]...
14. To Summer O thou who passest thro’ our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer, Oft pitched’st here thy goldent tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair. Beneath our thickest shades we […]...
15. Dead man's clothes Growing up, I propose, Is like wearing a dead man’s clothes. Death has a way of levelling the ground. I have found the closer your relationship The closer the fit; The unsettling bit is the fear Of not fitting the role, or where Your forbear made a name or leashed A reputation, which by imputation […]...
16. A Summer Evening Churchyard, Lechlade, Gloucestershire THE wind has swept from the wide atmosphere Each vapour that obscured the sunset’s ray, And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day: Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen. They breathe their spells towards the departing day, Encompassing the […]...
17. Indian Weavers WEAVERS, weaving at break of day, Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . . Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild, We weave the robes of a new-born child. Weavers, weaving at fall of night, Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . . Like the plumes of a […]...
18. Indian Dancer EYES ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light; O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of desire, And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the […]...
19. THE INDIAN GIPSY IN tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee, Behold her, daughter of a wandering race, Tameless, with the bold falcon’s agile grace, And the lithe tiger’s sinuous majesty. With frugal skill her simple wants she tends, She folds her tawny heifers and her sheep On lonely meadows when […]...
20. Indian Boyhood What happened to the boy I was? Why did he run away? And leave me old and thinking, like There’d been no yesterday? What happened then? Was I that boy? Who laughed and swam in the bund* I there no going back? No recompense? Is there nothing? No refund?...
21. My Indian In-laws I remember India: Palm trees, monkey families, Fresh lime juice in the streets, The sensual inundation Of sights and smells And excess in everything. I was exotic and believable there. I was walking through dirt In my sari, To temples of the deities Following the lead Of my Indian in-laws. I was scooping up fire […]...
22. Indian Song SHADOWY-PETALLED, like the lotus, loom the mountains with their snows: Through the sapphire Soma rising such a flood of glory throws As when first in yellow splendour Brahma from the Lotus rose. High above the darkening mounds where fade the fairy lights of day, All the tiny planet folk are waving us from far away; […]...
23. The Indian Serenade I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me – who knows how? To thy chamber-window, Sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the […]...
24. The Indian To His Love The island dreams under the dawn And great boughs drop tranquillity; The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, A parrot sways upon a tree, Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea. Here we will moor our lonely ship And wander ever with woven hands, Murmuring softly lip to lip, Along the grass, along […]...
25. Study of an Elevation, In Indian Ink Potiphar Gubbins, C. E. Stands at the top of the tree; And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led To the hoisting of Potiphar G. Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is seven years junior to Me; Each bridge that he makes either buckles or breaks, And his work is as rough as he. […]...
26. 'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe ‘Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe ‘Tis dimmer than a Lace No stature has it, like a Fog When you approach the place Nor any voice imply it here Or intimate it there A spirit how doth it accost What function hat the Air? This limitless Hyperbole Each one of us shall be ‘Tis Drama […]...
27. The Indian Burying Ground In spite of all the learn’d have said; I still my old opinion keep, The posture, that we give the dead, Points out the soul’s eternal sleep. Not so the ancients of these lands The Indian, when from life releas’d Again is seated with his friends, And shares gain the joyous feast. His imag’d birds, […]...
28. The Wreck of the Indian Chief ‘Twas on the 8th of January 1881, That a terrific gale along the English Channel ran, And spread death and disaster in its train, Whereby the “Indian Chief” vessel was tossed on the raging main. She was driven ashore on the Goodwin Sands, And the good captain fearlessly issued hie commands, “Come, my men, try […]...
29. An Indian Love Song He Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon Of thy glory and grace, Withhold not, O love, from the night Of my longing the joy of thy luminous face, Give me a spear of the scented keora Guarding thy pinioned curls, Or a silken thread from the fringes That trouble the dream of […]...
30. Indian Love Song She LIKE a serpent to the calling voice of flutes, Glides my heart into thy fingers, O my Love! Where the night-wind, like a lover, leans above His jasmine-gardens and sirisha-bowers; And on ripe boughs of many-coloured fruits Bright parrots cluster like vermilion flowers. He Like the perfume in the petals of a rose, Hides […]...
31. Song of the Indian Maid, from 'Endymion&#039 O SORROW! Why dost borrow The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips? To give maiden blushes To the white rose bushes? Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips? O Sorrow! Why dost borrow The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye? To give the glow-worm light? Or, on a moonless night, To tinge, on […]...
32. Classical Indian Explanation: Music past the hippies Past Ravi Shankar Eons before When the first Asian snake Came alive Stiffened with sound Through some empty shell Some hollow wood Some emptiness The snake Was not so much charmed As listening intently To the accidental flute To that which he knew Must be female Its empty insides Calling him With […]...
33. Passing away, saith the World Passing away, saith the World, passing away: Chances, beauty and youth, sapp’d day by day: Thy life never continueth in one stay. Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey That hath won neither laurel nor bay? I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May: Thou, root-stricken, shalt not […]...
34. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
35. The beekeeper the population controller Slips into disguise His charming suit His veil of words Conceals his gaze He has laid out the fields And filled them with blossoms And counted the money jars In his SimCity slim city Androgyn sharp Bodies are worry perfect Slicked back souped up Cool as drones The neutered ones Will dance […]...
36. Ships that Pass in the Night Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; I look far out into the pregnant night, Where I can hear the solemn booming gun And catch the gleaming of a random light, That tells me that the ship I seek Is passing, passing. My tearful eyes my soul’s deep hurt are glassing; For […]...
37. Father My father knows the proper way The nation should be run; He tells us children every day Just what should now be done. He knows the way to fix the trusts, He has a simple plan; But if the furnace needs repairs, We have to hire a man. My father, in a day or two […]...
38. Sonnet XV: When I consider everything that grows When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and check’d even by the selfsame sky, Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their […]...
39. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
40. Sonnet XV When I consider every thing that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and cheque’d even by the self-same sky, Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear […]...