Afternoon On A Hill

Related poetry:

1. The Little Hill Oh, here the air is sweet and still, And soft’s the grass to lie on; And far away’s the little hill They took for Christ to die on. And there’s a hill across the brook, And down the brook’s another; But, oh, the little hill they took,- I think I am its mother! The moon […]...
2. On a Hill-top BEARDED with dewy grass the mountains thrust Their blackness high into the still grey light, Deepening to blue: far up the glimmering height In silver transience shines the starry dust. Silent the sheep about me; fleece by fleece They sleep and stir not: I with awe around Wander uncertain o’er the giant mound, A fire […]...
3. AFTERNOON IN FEBRUARY The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes The red sun flashes On village windows That glimmer red. The snow recommences; The buried fences Mark no longer The road o’er the plain; While through the meadows, Like fearful shadows, Slowly passes A funeral train. […]...
4. Afternoon When I am old, and comforted, And done with this desire, With Memory to share my bed And Peace to share my fire, I’ll comb my hair in scalloped bands Beneath my laundered cap, And watch my cool and fragile hands Lie light upon my lap. And I will have a sprigged gown With lace […]...
5. All In The Golden Afternoon All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain pretense Our wanderings to guide. Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour, Beneath such dreamy weather, To beg a tale of breath too weak To stir the tiniest feather! […]...
6. Under the Shadow of Kiley's Hill This is the place where they all were bred; Some of the rafters are standing still; Now they are scattered and lost and dead, Every one from the old nest fled, Out of the shadow of Kiley’s Hill. Better it is that they ne’er came back Changes and chances are quickly rung; Now the old […]...
7. One Lonely Afternoon Since the fern can’t go to the sink for a drink of Water, I graciously submit myself to the task, bringing two Glasses from the sink. And so we sit, the fern and I, sipping water together. Of course I’m more complex than a fern, full of deep Thoughts as I am. But I lay […]...
8. Upon The Hill And Grove At Bill-borow To the Lord Fairfax. See how the arched Earth does here Rise in a perfect Hemisphere! The stiffest Compass could not strike A line more circular and like; Nor softest Pensel draw a Brow. So equal as this Hill does bow. It seems as for a Model laid, And that the World by it was […]...
9. Last Hill In A Vista Come, let us tell the weeds in ditches How we are poor, who once had riches, And lie out in the sparse and sodden Pastures that the cows have trodden, The while an autumn night seals down The comforts of the wooden town. Come, let us counsel some cold stranger How we sought safety, but […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. The Hill Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass. You said “Through glory and ecstasy we pass; Wind, sun, and earth remain, and birds sing still, When we are old, are old….” “And when we die All’s over that is ours; and life burns on Through other […]...
12. Harrow-on-the-Hill When melancholy Autumn comes to Wembley And electric trains are lighted after tea The poplars near the stadium are trembly With their tap and tap and whispering to me, Like the sound of little breakers Spreading out along the surf-line When the estuary’s filling With the sea. Then Harrow-on-the-Hill’s a rocky island And Harrow churchyard […]...
13. 417. Song-Blythe hae I been on yon hill BLYTHE hae I been on yon hill, As the lambs before me; Careless ilka thought and free, As the breeze flew o’er me; Now nae langer sport and play, Mirth or sang can please me; LESLEY is sae fair and coy, Care and anguish seize me. Heavy, heavy is the task, Hopeless love declaring; Trembling, […]...
14. 233. Song-O were I on Parnassus Hill O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well, My Muse maun be thy bonie sel’, On Corsincon I’ll glowr and spell, And write how dear I love thee. Then come, sweet […]...
15. Mild the mist upon the hill Mild the mist upon the hill Telling not of storms tomorrow; No, the day has wept its fill, Spent its store of silent sorrow. O, I’m gone back to the days of youth, I am a child once more, And ‘neath my father’s sheltering roof And near the old hall door I watch this cloudy […]...
16. Fern Hill Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns And once below […]...
17. The Inauguration of the Hill o' Balgay Beautiful Hill o’ Balgay, With your green frees and flowers fair, ‘Tis health for the old and young For to be walking there, To breathe the fragrant air Emanating from the green bushes And beautiful flowers there, Then they can through the burying-ground roam, And read the epitaphs on the tombstones Before they go home. […]...
18. The Hill Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom, and Charley, The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter? All, all, are sleeping on the hill. One passed in a fever, One was burned in a mine, One was killed in a brawl, One died in jail, One fell from a bridge […]...
19. Schoolroom On A Wet Afternoon The unrelated paragraphs of morning Are forgotten now; the severed heads of kings Rot by the misty Thames; the roses of York And Lancaster are pressed between the leaves Of history; Negroes sleep in Africa. The complexities of simple interest lurk In inkwells and the brittle sticks of chalk: Afternoon is come and English Grammar. […]...
20. A Summer Afternoon A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze, With labored respiration, moves the wheat From distant reaches, till the golden seas Break in crisp whispers at my feet. My book, neglected of an idle mind, Hides for a moment from the eyes of men; Or lightly opened by a critic wind, Affrightedly reviews itself again. Off through […]...
21. Afternoon Poem a lion at the door Swallowed the day Broken with spite At the inevitable chorus of pop songs Sutured for soft light I burdened siesta With a thousand little earthquakes I listened where you suffered vertigo Flowers have faded Bellies betray Caught the wistful eye That curved beneath my eyelids Something slime And panic strewn […]...
22. An Afternoon In The Stacks Closing the book, I find I have left my head Inside. It is dark in here, but the chapters open Their beautiful spaces and give a rustling sound, Words adjusting themselves to their meaning. Long passages open at successive pages. An echo, Continuous from the title onward, hums Behind me. From in here, the world […]...
23. I met a King this afternoon! I met a King this afternoon! He had not on a Crown indeed, A little Palmleaf Hat was all, And he was barefoot, I’m afraid! But sure I am he Ermine wore Beneath his faded Jacket’s blue And sure I am, the crest he bore Within that Jacket’s pocket too! For ’twas too stately for […]...
24. It Is A Spring Afternoon Everything here is yellow and green. Listen to its throat, its earthskin, The bone dry voices of the peepers As they throb like advertisements. The small animals of the woods Are carrying their deathmasks Into a narrow winter cave. The scarecrow has plucked out His two eyes like diamonds And walked into the village. The […]...
25. Kemang Afternoon Blues 1/ Had it not been for the traffic jam You’d have thought being elsewhere Most the niceties seemed so foreign Speaking a tongue so unfamiliar 2/ The bookstore you were in Saw a sea of printed words Of books beyond reach So beautiful they were doomed 3/ Even a minute you were denied A meeting […]...
26. Late Afternoon: The Onslaught Of Love For William and Emily Maxwell At this time of day One could hear the caulking irons sound Against the hulls in the dockyard. Tar smoke rose between trees And large oily patches floated on the water, Undulating unevenly In the purple sunlight Like the surfaces of Florentine bronze. At this time of day Sounds carried […]...
27. Afternoon Rain in State Street Cross-hatchings of rain against grey walls, Slant lines of black rain In front of the up and down, wet stone sides of buildings. Below, Greasy, shiny, black, horizontal, The street. And over it, umbrellas, Black polished dots Struck to white An instant, Stream in two flat lines Slipping past each other with the smoothness of […]...
28. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
29. Reconciliation I BEGIN through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord; I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest Of the earth, of the mother, my heart with her heart in accord, As I lie ‘mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast I begin with […]...
30. Pain In Pleasure A THOUGHT ay like a flower upon mine heart, And drew around it other thoughts like bees For multitude and thirst of sweetnesses; Whereat rejoicing, I desired the art Of the Greek whistler, who to wharf and mart Could lure those insect swarms from orange-trees That I might hive with me such thoughts and please […]...
31. Song of Karen, the Dancing Child (O little white feet of mine) Out in the storm and the rain you fly; (Red, red shoes the colour of wine) Can the children hear my cry? (O little white feet of mine) Never a child in the whole great town; (Red, red shoes the colour of wine) Lights out and the blinds pulled […]...
32. Isandlwana Scarlet coats, and crash o’ the band, The grey of a pauper’s gown, A soldier’s grave in Zululand, And a woman in Brecon Town. My little lad for a soldier boy, (Mothers o’ Brecon Town!) My eyes for tears and his for joy When he went from Brecon Town, His for the flags and the […]...
33. Malvern Hill Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill In prime of morn and May, Recall ye how McClellan’s men Here stood at bay? While deep within yon forest dim Our rigid comrades lay – Some with the cartridge in their mouth, Others with fixed arms lifted South – Invoking so The cypress glades? Ah wilds of […]...
34. The Hill Maples Here on a hill of the occident stand we shoulder to shoulder, Comrades tried and true through a mighty swath of the years! Spring harps glad laughter through us, and ministrant rains of the autumn Sing us again the songs of ancient dolor and tears. The glory of sunrise smites on our fair, free brows […]...
35. There was set before me a mighty hill There was set before me a mighty hill, And long days I climbed Through regions of snow. When I had before me the summit-view, It seemed that my labour Had been to see gardens Lying at impossible distances....
36. Doc Hill I went up and down the streets Here and there by day and night, Through all hours of the night caring for the poor who were sick. Do you know why? My wife hated me, my son went to the dogs. And I turned to the people and poured out my love to them. Sweet […]...
37. Woak Hill When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden Green-ruddy in hedges, Bezide the red doust o’ the ridges, A-dried at Woak Hill; I packed up my goods, all a-sheenen Wi’ long years o’ handlen, On dousty red wheels ov a waggon, To ride at Woak Hill. The brown thatchen ruf o’ the dwellen I then wer a-leaven, Had […]...
38. The House on the Hill They are all gone away, The House is shut and still, There is nothing more to say. Through broken walls and gray The winds blow bleak and shrill: They are all gone away. Nor is there one to-day To speak them good or ill: There is nothing more to say. Why is it then we […]...
39. Ant Hill Black ants have made a musty mound My purple pine tree under, And I am often to be found, Regarding it with wonder. Yet as I watch, somehow it;s odd, Above their busy striving I feel like an ironic god Surveying human striving. Then one day came my serving maid, And just in time I […]...
40. 1887 From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign returns And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills are bright, The dales are light between, Because ’tis fifty years to-night That God has saved the Queen. Now, when the flame they watch not […]...