Granville Calhoun

Related poetry:

1. Henry C. Calhoun I reached the highest place in Spoon River, But through what bitterness of spirit! The face of my father, sitting speechless, Child-like, watching his canaries, And looking at the court-house window Of the county judge’s room, And his admonitions to me to seek My own in life, and punish Spoon River To avenge the wrong […]...
2. All Hallows Even now this landscape is assembling. The hills darken. The oxen Sleep in their blue yoke, The fields having been Picked clean, the sheaves Bound evenly and piled at the roadside Among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises: This is the barrenness Of harvest or pestilence And the wife leaning out the window With her […]...
3. Air Naturally it is night. Under the overturned lute with its One string I am going my way Which has a strange sound. This way the dust, that way the dust. I listen to both sides But I keep right on. I remember the leaves sitting in judgment And then winter. I remember the rain with […]...
4. Lean Out of the Window Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air. My book was closed, I read no more, Watching the fire dance On the floor. I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom. Singing and singing A merry air, Lean out of […]...
5. The Doomed Ship The doomed ship drives on helpless through the sea, All that the mariners may do is done And death is left for men to gaze upon, While side by side two friends sit silently; Friends once, foes once, and now by death made free Of Love and Hate, of all things lost or won; Yet […]...
6. Lilies I have been thinking About living Like the lilies That blow in the fields. They rise and fall In the edge of the wind, And have no shelter From the tongues of the cattle, And have no closets or cupboards, And have no legs. Still I would like to be As wonderful As the old […]...
7. Our Hero “Flowers, only flowers bring me dainty posies, Blossoms for forgetfulness,” that was all he said; So we sacked our gardens, violets and roses, Lilies white and bluebells laid we on his bed. Soft his pale hands touched them, tenderly caressing; Soft into his tired eyes came a little light; Such a wistful love-look, gentle as […]...
8. On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand has Passed On fields o’er which the reaper’s hand has pass’d Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun, My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind And of such fineness as October airs, There after harvest could I glean my life A richer harvest reaping without toil, And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will In subtler […]...
9. TO THE COUNTESS GRANVILLE MY DEAR LADY GRANVILLE, THE reluctance which must naturally be felt by any one in Venturing to give to the world a book such as the present, where The beauties of the great original must inevitably be diminished, If not destroyed, in the process of passing through the Translator’s hands, cannot but be felt in […]...
10. No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest Sons of the mountains of Scotland, Welshmen of coomb and defile, Breed of the moors of England, Children of Erin’s green isle, We stand four square to the tempest, Whatever the battering hail- No foe shall gather our harvest, Or sit on our stockyard rail. Our women shall walk in honour, Our children shall know […]...
11. In Flanders Field In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In […]...
12. The New Mistress “Oh, sick I am to see you, will you never let me be? You may be good for something, but you are not good for me. Oh, go where you are wanted, for you are not wanted here. And that was all the farewell when I parted from my dear. “I will go where I […]...
13. Rebecca Wasson Spring and Summer, Fall and Winter and Spring, After each other drifting, past my window drifting! And I lay so many years watching them drift and counting The years till a terror came in my heart at times, With the feeling that I had become eternal; at last My hundredth year was reached! And still […]...
14. Ruth She stood breast-high amid the corn, Clasp’d by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won. On her cheek an autumn flush, Deeply ripen’d;-such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes her tresses fell, […]...
15. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall Oh down at the tavern The children are singing Around their round table And around me still. Did you hear what it said? I only said How there is a pewter urn Pinned to the tavern wall, As old as old is able To be and be there still. I said, the poets are tere […]...
16. Forget Forget the suffering You caused others. Forget the suffering Others caused you. The waters run and run, Springs sparkle and are done, You walk the earth you are forgetting. Sometimes you hear a distant refrain. What does it mean, you ask, who is singing? A childlike sun grows warm. A grandson and a great-grandson are […]...
17. Cooney Potter I inherited forty acres from my Father And, by working my wife, my two sons and two daughters From dawn to dusk, I acquired A thousand acres. But not content, Wishing to own two thousand acres, I bustled through the years with axe and plow, Toiling, denying myself, my wife, my sons, my daughters. Squire […]...
18. If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem If I forget thee, Jerusalem, Then let my right be forgotten. Let my right be forgotten, and my left remember. Let my left remember, and your right close And your mouth open near the gate. I shall remember Jerusalem And forget the forest my love will remember, Will open her hair, will close my window, […]...
19. The Sewing-Girl The humble garret where I dwell Is in that Quarter called the Latin; It isn’t spacious truth to tell, There’s hardly room to swing a cat in. But what of that! It’s there I fight For food and fame, my Muse inviting, And all the day and half the night You’ll find me writing, writing, […]...
20. The Condemned There is a wildness still in England that will not feed In cages; it shrinks away from the touch of the trainer’s hand, Easy to kill, not easy to tame. It will never breed In a zoo for the public pleasure. It will not be planned. Do not blame us too much if we that […]...
21. Scent of Irises A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table A fine proud spike of purple irises Rising above the class-room litter, makes me unable To see the class’s lifted and bended faces Save in a broken pattern, amid purple and gold and sable. I can smell the gorgeous […]...
22. Questions of Travel There are too many waterfalls here; the crowded streams Hurry too rapidly down to the sea, And the pressure of so many clouds on the mountaintops Makes them spill over the sides in soft slow-motion, Turning to waterfalls under our very eyes. For if those streaks, those mile-long, shiny, tearstains, Aren’t waterfalls yet, In a […]...
23. A Song I had wanted a quiet testament And I had wanted, among other things, A song. That was to be Of a like monotony. (A grace Simply. Very very quiet. A murmur of some lost Thrush, though I have never seen one. Which was you then. Sitting And so, at peace, so very much now this […]...
24. The House Of Dust: Part 04: 04: Counterpoint: Two Rooms He, in the room above, grown old and tired, She, in the room below-his floor her ceiling- Pursue their separate dreams. He turns his light, And throws himself on the bed, face down, in laughter. . . . She, by the window, smiles at a starlight night, His watch-the same he has heard these cycles […]...
25. The Harvest Of The Sea The earth grows white with harvest; all day long The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves Her web of silence o’er the thankful song Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves. The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear, And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap; But ever ‘mid the gleaners’ song […]...
26. The Pilot Up in a dirty window in a dark room is a star Which an old man can see. He looks at it. He can See it. It is the star of the room; an electrical Freckle that has fallen out of his head and gotten Stuck in the dirt on the window. He thinks he […]...
27. My Dentist Sitting in the dentist’s chair, Wishing that I wasn’t there, To forget and pass the time I have made this bit of rhyme. I had a rendez-vous at ten; I rushed to get in line, But found a lot of dames and men Had waited there since nine; I stared at them, then in an […]...
28. A Year Ago I’m sitting by the fire tonight, The cat purrs on the rug; The room’s abrim with rosy light, Suavely soft and snug; And safe and warm from dark and storm It’s cosiness I hug. Then petulant the window pane Quakes in the tempest moan, And cries: “Forlornly in the rain There starkly streams a stone, […]...
29. The house where I was born (08) I open my eyes, yes, it’s the house where I was born, Exactly as it was and nothing more. The same small dining room whose window Gives onto a peach tree that never grows. A man and a woman are seated At this window, facing one another, They are talking, for once. And the child […]...
30. Batterson Dobyns Did my widow flit about From Mackinac to Los Angeles, Resting and bathing and sitting an hour Or more at the table over soup and meats And delicate sweets and coffee? I was cut down in my prime From overwork and anxiety. But I thought all along, whatever happens I’ve kept my insurance up, And […]...
31. Of Three Or Four In The Room Out of three or four in the room One is always standing at the window. Forced to see the injustice amongst the thorns, The fires on the hills. And people who left whole Are brought home in the evening, like small change. Out of three or four in the room One is always standing at […]...
32. On The Breakwater On the breakwater in the summer dark, a man and a girl are sitting, She across his knee and they are looking face into face Talking to each other without words, singing rythms in silence to each other. A funnel of white ranges the blue dusk from an out- going boat, Playing its searchlight, puzzled, […]...
33. Forget Not Yet Forget not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant My great travail so gladly spent Forget not yet. Forget not yet when first began The weary life ye knew, since whan The suit, the service, none tell can, Forget not yet. Forget not yet the great assays, The cruel wrongs, […]...
34. The Harvest Moon The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upward To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. The harvest moon has come, Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. And the earth replies all night, like a deep […]...
35. Messidor Put in the sickles and reap; For the morning of harvest is red, And the long large ranks of the corn Coloured and clothed as the morn Stand thick in the fields and deep For them that faint to be fed. Let all that hunger and weep Come hither, and who would have bread Put […]...
36. Siren I became a criminal when I fell in love. Before that I was a waitress. I didn’t want to go to Chicago with you. I wanted to marry you, I wanted Your wife to suffer. I wanted her life to be like a play In which all the parts are sad parts. Does a good […]...
37. Fading All in the beautiful Autumn weather One thought lingers with me and stays; Death and winter are coming together, Though both are veiled by the amber haze I look on the forest of royal splendour! I look on the face in my quiet room; A face all beautiful, sad and tender, And both are stamped […]...
38. Caroline Branson With our hearts like drifting suns, had we but walked, As often before, the April fields till star-light Silkened over with viewless gauze the darkness Under the cliff, our trysting place in the wood, Where the brook turns! Had we but passed from wooing Like notes of music that run together, into winning, In the […]...
39. Justice Denied In Massachusetts Let us abandon then our gardens and go home And sit in the sitting-room Shall the larkspur blossom or the corn grow under this cloud? Sour to the fruitful seed Is the cold earth under this cloud, Fostering quack and weed, we have marched upon but cannot Conquer; We have bent the blades of our […]...
40. To Ottilie YOU remember, I suppose, How the August sun arose, And how his face Woke to trill and carolette All the cages that were set About the place. In the tender morning light All around lay strange and bright And still and sweet, And the gray doves unafraid Went their morning promenade Along the street....