Sonnets 06: No Rose That In A Garden Ever Grew
No rose that in a garden ever grew, In Homer’s or in Omar’s or in mine, Though buried under centuries of fine Dead dust of roses, shut from sun and dew Forever, and forever
Love Is Not All
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and
Make Bright The Arrows
Make bright the arrows Gather the shields: Conquest narrows The peaceful fields. Stock well the quiver With arrows bright: The bowman feared Need never fight. Make bright the arrows, O peaceful and wise! Gather
Oh, Oh, You Will Be Sorry
Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word! Give me back my book and take my kiss instead. Was it my enemy or my friend I heard, “What a big book for such
I Dreamed I Moved Among The Elysian Fields
I dreamed I moved among the Elysian fields, In converse with sweet women long since dead; And out of blossoms which that meadow yields I wove a garland for your living head. Danai, that
Pastoral
If it were only still!- With far away the shrill Crying of a cock; Or the shaken bell From a cow’s throat Moving through the bushes; Or the soft shock Of wizened apples falling
Sonnets 12: Cherish You Then The Hope I Shall Forget
Cherish you then the hope I shall forget At length, my lord, Pieria?-put away For your so passing sake, this mouth of clay These mortal bones against my body set, For all the puny
Midnight Oil
Edna St. Vincent Millay – Midnight Oil Cut if you will, with Sleep’s dull knife, Each day to half its length, my friend,- The years that Time take off my life, He’ll take from
The Fawn
There it was I saw what I shall never forget And never retrieve. Monstrous and beautiful to human eyes, hard to believe, He lay, yet there he lay, Asleep on the moss, his head
Kin To Sorrow
Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed, Under Sorrow’s hand? Marigolds around the step And rosemary stand, And then
The Philosopher
And what are you that, wanting you, I should be kept awake As many nights as there are days With weeping for your sake? And what are you that, missing you, As many days
Sonnets 11: As To Some Lovely Temple, Tenantless
As to some lovely temple, tenantless Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass, Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass Grown up between the stones, yet from excess Of grief hard
Three Songs Of Shattering
I The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief of grief has drained me clean; Still it seems a pity No one saw,-it
Sonnets 02: Into The Golden Vessel Of Great Song
Into the golden vessel of great song Let us pour all our passion; breast to breast Let other lovers lie, in love and rest; Not we,-articulate, so, but with the tongue Of all the
The Wood Road
If I were to walk this way Hand in hand with Grief, I should mark that maple-spray Coming into leaf. I should note how the old burrs Rot upon the ground. Yes, though Grief