How Annandale Went Out

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1. The Book of Annandale I Partly to think, more to be left alone, George Annandale said something to his friends – A word or two, brusque, but yet smoothed enough To suit their funeral gaze-and went upstairs; And there, in the one room that he could call His own, he found a sort of meaningless Annoyance in the mute […]...
2. 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 […]...
3. Long ago I once knew all the birds that came And nested in our orchard trees; For every flower I had a name My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees; I knew where thrived in yonder glen What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe Oh, I was very learned then; But that was very long ago! I […]...
4. Jane and Eliza There were two little girls, neither handsome nor plain; One’s name was Eliza, the other’s was Jane: They were both of one height, as I’ve heard people say, They were both of one age, I believe, to a day. ‘Twas fancied by some, who but slightly had seen them, That scarcely a difference was there […]...
5. Portrait of the Artist as a Prematurely Old Man It is common knowledge to every schoolboy and even every Bachelor of Arts, That all sin is divided into two parts. One kind of sin is called a sin of commission, and that is very important, And it is what you are doing when you are doing something you ortant, And the other kind of […]...
6. The Worst And The Best in the hospitals and jails It’s the worst In madhouses It’s the worst In penthouses It’s the worst In skid row flophouses It’s the worst At poetry readings At rock concerts At benefits for the disabled It’s the worst At funerals At weddings It’s the worst At parades At skating rinks At sexual orgies It’s […]...
7. Sonnet 105: Let not my love be called idolatry Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my belovèd as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out […]...
8. Bon Voyage Child of a line accurst And old as Troy, Bringer of best and worst In wild alloy – Light, like a linnet first, He sang for joy. Thrall to the gilded ease Of every day, Mocker of all degrees And always gay, Child of the Cyclades And of Broadway – Laughing and half divine The […]...
9. First Sight Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro All they find, outside the fold, Is a wretched width of cold. As they wait beside the ewe, Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies Hidden round them, […]...
10. Milano wandering around milan my father I know that (bred in the bone) i’m you I walk and think – my legs roll onwards I take in the atmosphere but not the view But now you’re dead – and i’ve been silent For the past five months since you were burned A numbness that called itself […]...
11. Erasmus When he protested, not too solemnly, That for a world’s achieving maintenance The crust of overdone divinity Lacked aliment, they called it recreance; And when he chose through his own glass to scan Sick Europe, and reduced, unyieldingly, The monk within the cassock to the man Within the monk, they called it heresy. And when […]...
12. An Epilogue I had seen flowers come in stony places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races, Ao I trust, too....
13. Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised: The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised; That being now with her huge brightness dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view; But looking still on her, I stand […]...
14. Sonnet III THe souerayne beauty which I doo admyre, Witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed: The light wherof hath kindled heauenly iyre, In my fraile spirit by her from basenesse raysed. That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view: But looking still on her I stand […]...
15. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
16. People Who Must I PAINTED on the roof of a skyscraper. I painted a long while and called it a day’s work. The people on a corner swarmed and the traffic cop’s whistle never let up all afternoon. They were the same as bugs, many bugs on their way- Those people on the go or at a standstill; […]...
17. Beautiful Balmerino Beautiful Balmermo on the bonnie banks of Tay, It’s a very bonnie spot in the months of June or May; The scenery there is charming and fascinating to see, Especially the surroundings of the old Abbey, Which is situated in the midst of trees on a rugged hill, Which visitors can view at their own […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
20. Impromptu, to Lady Winchelsea In vain you boast Poetic Names of yore, And cite those Sapho’s we admire no more: Fate doom’d the Fall of ev’ry Female Wit, But doom’d it then when first Ardelia writ. Of all Examples by the World confest, I knew Ardelia could not quote the best; Who, like her Mistress on Britannia’s Throne; Fights, […]...
21. Elizabeth Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so doing Besides my innate love of contradiction; Each poet – if a poet – in pursuing The muses thro’ their bowers […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. Stalk Me Liner Notes – (from Love Is A Dog From Hell) My friend Jenny is really Worried that people are going to follow me around and send me dead animal Parts and doll heads as a result of this song but please, if you feel inclined To send me dead animal parts, think it through. Thanks. […]...
24. Hiawathas' photographing ( Part V ) Last, the youngest son was taken: Very rough and thick his hair was, Very round and red his face was, Very dusty was his jacket, Very fidgety his manner. And his overbearing sisters Called him names he disapproved of: Called him Johnny, ‘Daddy’s Darling,’ Called him Jacky, ‘Scrubby School-boy.’ And, so awful was the picture, […]...
25. 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...
26. Hugo's "flower to butterfly&quot Sweet, bide with me and let my love Be an enduring tether; Oh, wanton not from spot to spot, But let us dwell together. You’ve come each morn to sip the sweets With which you found me dripping, Yet never knew it was not dew But tears that you were sipping. You gambol over honey […]...
27. 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...
28. The Gardener XVIII: When Two Sisters When the two sisters go to fetch Water, they come to this spot and They smile. They must be aware of somebody Who stands behind the trees when- Ever they go to fetch water. The two sisters whisper to each Other when they pass this spot. They must have guessed the secret Of that somebody […]...
29. The River of Leith As I stood upon the Dean Bridge and viewed the beautiful scenery, I felt fascinated and my heart was full of glee, And I exclaimed in an ecstasy of delight, In all my travels I never saw such a sight. The scenery is so enchanting to look upon That all tourists will say, “Dull care, […]...
30. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
31. The Height of the Ridiculous I WROTE some lines once on a time In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came; How kind […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. A Boy Named Sue Well, my daddy left home when I was three, And he didn’t leave much to Ma and me, Just this old guitar and a bottle of booze. Now I don’t blame him because he run and hid, But the meanest thing that he ever did was Before he left he went and named me Sue. […]...
34. On the Mystery of the Incarnation It’s when we face for a moment The worst our kind can do, and shudder to know The taint in our own selves, that awe Cracks the mind’s shell and enters the heart: Not to a flower, not to a dolphin, To no innocent form But to this creature vainly sure It and no other […]...
35. Beautiful Torquay All ye lovers of the picturesque, away To beautiful Torquay and spend a holiday ‘Tis health for invalids for to go there To view the beautiful scenery and inhale the fragrant air, Especially in the winter and spring-time of the year, When the weather is not too hot, but is balmy and clear. Torquay lies […]...
36. Jim Never knew Jim, did you? Our boy Jim? Bless you, there was the likely lad; Supple and straight and long of limb, Clean as a whistle, and just as glad. Always laughing, wasn’t he, dad? Joy, pure joy to the heart of him, And, oh, but the soothering ways he had, Jim, our Jim! But […]...
37. 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!...
38. Coming To This We have done what we wanted. We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry Of each other, and we have welcomed grief And called ruin the impossible habit to break. And now we are here. The dinner is ready and we cannot eat. The meat sits in the white lake of its dish. The wine […]...
39. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
40. Pagett, M. P The toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where eath tooth-point goes. The butterfly upon the road Preaches contentment to that toad. Pagett, M. P., was a liar, and a fluent liar therewith He spoke of the heat of India as the “Asian Solar Myth”; Came on a four months’ visit, to “study the East,” in […]...