Success Comes To Cow Creek

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1. A Song Of Success Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave. Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight. All that was best in us gladly we gave, Sprang from the rally, and leapt for the height. Smiling is Love in a foam of Spring flowers: Harden our hearts to him on let us press! […]...
2. Where The Creek Used To Run In ash-fine silt that spread like sand After the flood and before the wild weeds Claimed the old stream bed; Before thistle phalanxes sprang From the dying mud to invest hollows Between abandoned river stones; in affluent heat Of an endless summer of immature dreams; In a valley redolent with green and khaki hills We […]...
3. Pejar Creek Deep in the meadow grass Easy stand the cattle, Lightly lock the young bulls In a mimic battle, Pride gathers with each shock, Every break and rally – That’s where the Pejar runs, Runs like a slip of silver through the valley. Softly as a thrush sings In the morning hushes, Softly sing the waters […]...
4. Success Oft have I brooded on defeat and pain, The pathos of the stupid, stumbling throng. These I ignore to-day and only long To pour my soul forth in one trumpet strain, One clear, grief-shattering, triumphant song, For all the victories of man’s high endeavor, Palm-bearing, laurel deeds that live forever, The splendor clothing him whose […]...
5. Success You ask me what I call Success – It is, I wonder, Happiness? It is not wealth, it is not fame, Nor rank, nor power nor honoured name. It is not triumph in the Arts – Best-selling books or leading parts. It is not plaudits of the crowd, The flame of flags, processions proud. The […]...
6. Success I think if you had loved me when I wanted; If I’d looked up one day, and seen your eyes, And found my wild sick blasphemous prayer granted, And your brown face, that’s full of pity and wise, Flushed suddenly; the white godhead in new fear Intolerably so struggling, and so shamed; Most holy and […]...
7. Success is counted sweetest Success is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple Host Who took the Flag today Can tell the definition So clear of Victory As he defeated dying On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Burst agonized and clear!...
8. Style Flaubert wanted to write a novel About nothing. It was to have no subject And be sustained upon the style alone, Like the Holy Ghost cruising above The abyss, or like the little animals In Disney cartoons who stand upon a branch That breaks, but do not fall Till they look down. He never wrote […]...
9. A GRIEF Rivers, tow paths, caravan parks From Kirkstall to Keighley The track’s ribbon flaps Like Margaret’s whirling and twirling At ten with her pink-tied hair And blue-check patterned frock O my lost beloved Mills fall like doomed fortresses Their domes topple, stopped clocks Chime midnight forever and ever Amen to the lost hegemony of mill girls […]...
10. Ode To Modern Art Come on in and stay a while I’ll photograph you emerging from the revolving door Like Frank O’Hara dating the muse of modern art Talking about the big Pollock show is better Than going to it on a dismal Saturday afternoon When my luncheon partner is either the author or the subject Of The Education […]...
11. Bindle Stiff When I was brash and gallant-gay Just fifty years ago, I hit the ties and beat my way From Maine to Mexico; For though to Glasgow gutter bred A hobo heart had I, And followed where adventure led, Beneath a brazen sky. And as I tramped the railway track I owned a single shirt; Like […]...
12. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
13. 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 […]...
14. 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 […]...
15. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
16. Round-Pond Water ruffled and speckled by galloping wind Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breaks Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon sunlight. The shining of the sun upon the water Is like a scattering of gold crocus-petals In a long wavering irregular flight. The water is cold to the eye As the wind to the cheek. […]...
17. Black Harry's Team No soft-skinned Durham steers are they, No Devons plump and red, But brindled, black and iron-grey That mark the mountain-bred; For mountain-bred and mountain-broke, With sullen eyes agleam, No stranger’s hand could put a yoke On old Black Harry’s team. Pull out, pull out, at break of morn The creeks are running white, And Tiger, […]...
18. Cruisers As our mother the Frigate, bepainted and fine, Made play for her bully the Ship of the Line; So we, her bold daughters by iron and fire, Accost and decoy to our masters’ desire. Now, pray you, consider what toils we endure, Night-walking wet sea-lanes, a guard and a lure; Since half of our trade […]...
19. Blue Bridge Praise the good-tempered summer And the red cardinal That jumps Like a hot coal off the track. Praise the heavy leaves, Heroines of green, frosted With silver. Praise the litter Of torn paper, mulch And sticks, the spiny holly, Its scarlet land mines. Praise the black snake that whips And shudders its way across my […]...
20. Victory All night the ways of Heaven were desolate, Long roads across a gleaming empty sky. Outcast and doomed and driven, you and I, Alone, serene beyond all love or hate, Terror or triumph, were content to wait, We, silent and all-knowing. Suddenly Swept through the heaven low-crouching from on high, One horseman, downward to the […]...
21. 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...
22. Petropolis From a fearful height, a wandering light, But does a star glitter like this, crying? Transparent star, wandering light Your brother, Petropolis, is dying. From a fearful height, earthly dreams are alight, And a green star is crying. Oh star, if you are the brother of water and light, Your brother, Petropolis, is dying. A […]...
23. Tortoise Gallantry Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff at her, No, not even sniff at her, his nose is blank. Only he senses the vulnerable folds of skin That work beneath her while she sprawls along In her ungainly pace, Her folds of skin that work and row Beneath the earth-soiled hovel […]...
24. Sojourns in the Parallel World We live our lives of human passions, Cruelties, dreams, concepts, Crimes and the exercise of virtue In and beside a world devoid Of our preoccupations, free From apprehension though affected, Certainly, by our actions. A world Parallel to our own though overlapping. We call it “Nature”; only reluctantly Admitting ourselves to be “Nature” too. Whenever […]...
25. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
26. The Poor Boy's Christmas Observe, my child, this pretty scene, And note the air of pleasure keen With which the widow’s orphan boy Toots his tin horn, his only toy. What need of costly gifts has he? The widow has nowhere to flee. And ample noise his horn emits To drive the widow into fits. MORAL: The philosophic mind […]...
27. 232. Song-The Day Returns THE DAY returns, my bosom burns, The blissful day we twa did meet: Tho’ winter wild in tempest toil’d, Ne’er summer-sun was half sae sweet. Than a’ the pride that loads the tide, And crosses o’er the sultry line; Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes, Heav’n gave me more-it made thee mine! While day […]...
28. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
29. The Solitary Huntsman The solitary huntsman No coat of pink doth wear, But midnight black from cap to spur Upon his midnight mare. He drones a tuneless jingle In lieu of tally-ho: “I’ll catch a fox And put him in a box And never let him go.” The solitary huntsman, He follows silent hounds. No horn proclaims his […]...
30. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
31. 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 […]...
32. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
33. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
34. The Soul's Expression WITH stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right That music of my nature, day and night With dream and thought and feeling interwound And inly answering all the senses round With octaves of a mystic depth and height Which step out grandly to the infinite From the dark edges of […]...
35. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
38. JOHANNA SEBUS [To the memory of an excellent and beautiful Girl of 17, belonging to the village of Brienen, who perished on The 13th of January, 1809, whilst giving help on the occasion of The breaking up of the ice on the Rhine, and the bursting of the Dam of Cleverham.] THE DAM BREAKS DOWN, THE ICE-PLAIN […]...
39. Break of Day There seemed a smell of autumn in the air At the bleak end of night; he shivered there In a dank, musty dug-out where he lay, Legs wrapped in sand-bags,-lumps of chalk and clay Spattering his face. Dry-mouthed, he thought, ‘To-day We start the damned attack; and, Lord knows why, Zero’s at nine; how bloody […]...
40. Wild Dreams Of A New Beginning There’s a breathless hush on the freeway tonight Beyond the ledges of concrete Restaurants fall into dreams With candlelight couples Lost Alexandria still burns In a billion lightbulbs Lives cross lives Idling at stoplights Beyond the cloverleaf turnoffs ‘Souls eat souls in the general emptiness’ A piano concerto comes out a kitchen window A yogi […]...