Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid Was A Man Aged A Hundred

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1. Summer Dawn Pray but one prayer for me ‘twixt thy closed lips, Think but one thought of me up in the stars. The summer night waneth, the morning light slips, Faint and grey ‘twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars That are patiently waiting there for the dawn: Patient and colourless, though Heaven’s gold Waits […]...
2. Summer Dawn My sleeping children are still flying dreams In their goose-down heads. The lush of the river singing morning songs Fish watch their ceilings turn sun-white. The grey-green pike lances upstream Kale, like mermaid’s hair Points the water’s drift. All is morning hush And bird beautiful. I only, I didn’t have flu....
3. Walkers With The Dawn Being walkers with the dawn and morning, Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness Being walkers with the sun and morning....
4. The Release To-day within a grog-shop near I saw a newly captured linnet, Who beat against his cage in fear, And fell exhausted every minute; And when I asked the fellow there If he to sell the bird were willing, He told me with a careless air That I could have it for a shilling. And so […]...
5. The Kookaburras In every heart there is a coward and a procrastinator. In every heart there is a god of flowers, just waiting To stride out of a cloud and lift its wings. The kookaburras, pressed against the edge of their cage, Asked me to open the door. Years later I remember how I didn’t do it, […]...
6. The Dawn of Darkness COME earth’s little children pit-pat from their burrows on the hill; Hangs within the gloom its weary head the shining daffodil. In the valley underneath us through the fragrance flit along Over fields and over hedgerows little quivering drops of song. All adown the pale blue mantle of the mountains far away Stream the tresses […]...
7. The Last Trump “You led the trump,” the old man said With fury in his eye, “And yet you hope my girl to wed! Young man! your hopes of love are fled, ‘Twere better she should die! “My sweet young daughter sitting there, So innocent and plump! You don’t suppose that she would care To wed an outlawed […]...
8. Memoriam A. H. H.: 72. Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar white, And lash with storm the streaming pane? Day, when my crown’d estate begun To pine in that reverse of doom, Which sicken’d every living bloom, And blurr’d the splendour of the sun; Who usherest in the […]...
9. The Aged Pilot Man On the Erie Canal, it was, All on a summer’s day, I sailed forth with my parents Far away to Albany. From out the clouds at noon that day There came a dreadful storm, That piled the billows high about, And filled us with alarm. A man came rushing from a house, Saying, “Snub up […]...
10. Dawn STILL as the holy of holies breathes the vast, Within its crystal depths the stars grow dim; Fire on the altar of the hills at last Burns on the shadowy rim. Moment that holds all moments; white upon The verge it trembles; then like mists of flowers Break from the fairy fountain of the dawn […]...
11. Dawn Opposite me two Germans snore and sweat. Through sullen swirling gloom we jolt and roar. We have been here for ever: even yet A dim watch tells two hours, two aeons, more. The windows are tight-shut and slimy-wet With a night’s foetor. There are two hours more; Two hours to dawn and Milan; two hours […]...
12. Nineteen Hundred And Nineteen I Many ingenious lovely things are gone That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude, Protected from the circle of the moon That pitches common things about. There stood Amid the ornamental bronze and stone An ancient image made of olive wood – And gone are phidias’ famous ivories And all the golden grasshoppers and bees. […]...
13. In falling Timbers buried In falling Timbers buried There breathed a Man Outside the spades were plying The Lungs within Could He know they sought Him Could They know He breathed Horrid Sand Partition Neither could be heard Never slacked the Diggers But when Spades had done Oh, Reward of Anguish, It was dying Then Many Things are fruitless […]...
14. The Aged Aged Man I’ll tell thee everything I can; There’s little to relate. I saw an aged aged man, A-sitting on a gate. “Who are you, aged man?” I said, “And how is it you live?” And his answer trickled through my head Like water through a sieve. He said, “I look for butterflies That sleep among the […]...
15. Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof Out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross Surveys the city’s blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers ‘ll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I’m taking Your picture, pigeons. I’m writing you down, Dawn. I’m immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus. O […]...
16. Middle Aged Lovers, II You open to me A little, Then grow afraid And close again, A small boy Fearing to be hurt, A toe stubbed In the dark, A finger cut On paper. I think I am free Of fears, Enraptured, abandoned To the call Of the Bacchae, My own siren, Tied to my own Mast, Both Circe […]...
17. When I'm Killed When I’m killed, don’t think of me Buried there in Cambrin Wood, Nor as in Zion think of me With the Intolerable Good. And there’s one thing that I know well, I’m damned if I’ll be damned to Hell! So when I’m killed, don’t wait for me, Walking the dim corridor; In Heaven or Hell, […]...
18. The Man He Killed Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have set us down to wet Right many a nipperkin! But ranged as infantry, And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me, And killed him in his place. I shot him dead because Because he was my […]...
19. To A Young Poet Who Killed Himself When you had played with life a space And made it drink and lust and sing, You flung it back into God’s face And thought you did a noble thing. “Lo, I have lived and loved,” you said, “And sung to fools too dull to hear me. Now for a cool and grassy bed With […]...
20. Small Frogs Killed On The Highway Still, I would leap too Into the light, If I had the chance. It is everything, the wet green stalk of the field On the other side of the road. They crouch there, too, faltering in terror And take strange wing. Many Of the dead never moved, but many Of the dead are alive forever […]...
21. Dawn Song WHILE the earth is dark and grey How I laugh within. I know In my breast what ardours gay From the morning overflow. Though the cheek be white and wet In my heart no fear may fall: There my chieftain leads and yet Ancient battle trumpets call. Bend on me no hasty frown If my […]...
22. After a hundred years After a hundred years Nobody knows the Place Agony that enacted there Motionless as Peace Weeds triumphant ranged Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone Orthography Of the Elder Dead Winds of Summer Fields Recollect the way Instinct picking up the Key Dropped by memory...
23. A Hundred Collars Lancaster bore him such a little town, Such a great man. It doesn’t see him often Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead And sends the children down there with their mother To run wild in the summer a little wild. Sometimes he joins them for a day or two And sees old […]...
24. My Hundred Books A thousand books my library Contains; And all are primed, it seems to me With brains. Mine are so few I scratch in thought My head; For just a hundred of the lot I’ve read. A hundred books, but of the best, I can With wisdom savour and digest And scan. Yet when afar from […]...
25. Two Hundred Years After Trudging by Corbie Ridge one winter’s night, (Unless old hearsay memories tricked his sight) Along the pallid edge of the quiet sky He watched a nosing lorry grinding on, And straggling files of men; when these were gone, A double limber and six mules went by, Hauling the rations up through ruts and mud To […]...
26. Harbor Dawn There’s a hush and stillness calm and deep, For the waves have wooed all the winds to sleep In the shadow of headlands bold and steep; But some gracious spirit has taken the cup Of the crystal sky and filled it up With rosy wine, and in it afar Has dissolved the pearl of the […]...
27. Across The Red Sky Across the red sky two birds flying, Flying with drooping wings. Silent and solitary their ominous flight. All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners Warred and warred with the earth, and when she yielded Stabbed her heart, gathered her blood in a chalice, Spilling it over the evening sky. When the dark plumaged birds […]...
28. Little Little Man Little little man, little little man, Set free your canary that wants to fly. I am that canary, little little man, Leave me to fly. I was in your cage, little little man, Little little man who gave me my cage. I say “little little” because you don’t understand me Nor will you understand. Nor […]...
29. Uncommon common sense The other day I listened to a man on the radio Who made uncommon common sense, ‘specially since It was an interview on ABC’s noon talk-back show. He was a Professor, of what I hadn’t heard, But for once the words were plain and clear – the host, Bless the dear, didn’t interfere or ask […]...
30. The Hock-cart, or Harvest Home To the Right Honourable Mildmay, Earl of Westmoreland Come, sons of summer, by whose toil We are the lords of wine and oil; By whose tough labours, and rough hands, We rip up first, then reap our lands. Crown’d with the ears of corn, now come, And to the pipe sing Harvest Home. Come forth, […]...
31. Invitation To Miss Marianne Moore From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning, please come flying. In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals, please come flying, To the rapid rolling of thousands of small blue drums Descending out of the mackerel sky Over the glittering grandstand of harbor-water, please come flying. Whistles, pennants and smoke are blowing. The […]...
32. The Progress of Poetry The Farmer’s Goose, who in the Stubble, Has fed without Restraint, or Trouble; Grown fat with Corn and Sitting still, Can scarce get o’er the Barn-Door Sill: And hardly waddles forth, to cool Her Belly in the neighb’ring Pool: Nor loudly cackles at the Door; For Cackling shews the Goose is poor. But when she […]...
33. The Last Words Of My English Grandmother There were some dirty plates And a glass of milk Beside her on a small table Near the rank, disheveled bed- Wrinkled and nearly blind She lay and snored Rousing with anger in her tones To cry for food, Gimme something to eat- They’re starving me- I’m all right I won’t go To the hospital. […]...
34. Alone From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved […]...
35. Captivity O meadow lark, so wild and free, It cannot be, it cannot be, That men to merchandise your spell Do close you in a wicker hell! O hedgerow thrush so mad with glee, It cannot be, it cannot be, They rape you from your hawthorn foam To make a cell of steel your home! O […]...
36. A Crazed Girl That crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore, Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship, Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing Heroically lost, heroically found. No matter what disaster occurred She […]...
37. Something Left Undone Labor with what zeal we will, Something still remains undone, Something uncompleted still Waits the rising of the sun. By the bedside, on the stair, At the threshhold, near the gates, With its menace or its prayer, Like a medicant it waits; Waits, and will not go away; Waits, and will not be gainsaid; By […]...
38. The Awakening River The gulls are mad-in-love with the river, And the river unveils her face and smiles. In her sleep-brooding eyes they mirror their shining wings. She lies on silver pillows: the sun leans over her. He warms and warms her, he kisses and kisses her. There are sparks in her hair and she stirs in laughter. […]...
39. O Breath Beneath that loved and celebrated breast, Silent, bored really blindly veined, Grieves, maybe lives and lets Live, passes bets, Something moving but invisibly, And with what clamor why restrained I cannot fathom even a ripple. (See the thin flying of nine black hairs Four around one five the other nipple, Flying almost intolerably on your […]...
40. The Dying Christian to His Soul Vital spark of heav’nly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying, O the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life. Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister Spirit, come away! What is this absorbs me quite? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, […]...