The Chorus of Old Men in Aegus

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1. Chorus of Eden Spirits HEARKEN, oh hearken! let your souls behind you Turn, gently moved! Our voices feel along the Dread to find you, O lost, beloved! Through the thick-shielded and strong-marshalled angels, They press and pierce: Our requiems follow fast on our evangels,- Voice throbs in verse. We are but orphaned spirits left in Eden A time ago: […]...
2. Chorus from Hellas The world’s great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faith and empires gleam, Like a wrecks of a dissolving dream. A brighter Hellas rears its mountains From waves serener far; A new Peneus rolls his fountains Against the morning star. […]...
3. The House Of Dust: Part 04: 02: Death: And A Derisive Chorus The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office, And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly Towards the dazzling street. Her withered hand clings tightly to the railing. The long stairs rise and fall beneath her feet. Here in the brilliant sun we jostle, waiting To tear her secret out. . . We laugh, […]...
4. Chorus From Oedipus At Colonos What is unwisdom but the lusting after Longevity: to be old and full of days! For the vast and unremitting tide of years Casts up to view more sorrowful things than joyful; And as for pleasures, once beyond our prime, They all drift out of reach, they are washed away. And the same gaunt bailiff […]...
5. Dylan And is it not a gesture grand To drink oneself to death? Oh sure ’tis I can understand, Being of sober breath. And so I do not sing success, But dirge the damned who fall, And who contempt for life express Through alcohol. Of Stephen Foster and of Poe, Of Burns and Wilde I think; […]...
6. Chorus from Atalanta in Calydon When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; And the brown bright nigthingale amorous Is half assuaged for Itylus, For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, The […]...
7. While the Fates Sleep Come, let us to the sunways of the west, Hasten, while crystal dews the rose-cups fill, Let us dream dreams again in our blithe quest O’er whispering wold and hill. Castles of air yon wimpling valleys keep Where milk-white mist steals from the purpling sea, They shall be ours in the moon’s wizardry, While the […]...
8. Frogs in chorus The chorus frogs in the big lagoon Would sing their songs to the silvery moon. Tenor singers were out of place, For every frog was a double bass. But never a human chorus yet Could beat the accurate time they set. The solo singer began the joke; He sang, “As long as I live I’ll […]...
9. Three Quatrains I As long as Fame’s imperious music rings Will poets mock it with crowned words august; And haggard men will clamber to be kings As long as Glory weighs itself in dust. II Drink to the splendor of the unfulfilled, Nor shudder for the revels that are done: The wines that flushed Lucullus are all […]...
10. Think Of It Not, Sweet One Think not of it, sweet one, so; – Give it not a tear; Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go Any – anywhere. Do not lool so sad, sweet one, – Sad and fadingly; Shed one drop then, – it is gone – O ’twas born to die! Still so pale? then, dearest, weep; Weep, […]...
11. Lenore Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll!- a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?- weep now or nevermore! See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore! Come! let the burial rite be read – the […]...
12. A Lyric to Mirth While the milder fates consent, Let’s enjoy our merriment : Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play ; Kiss our dollies night and day : Crowned with clusters of the vine, Let us sit, and quaff our wine. Call on Bacchus, chant his praise ; Shake the thyrse, and bite the bays : Rouse Anacreon […]...
13. A Chorus Over the surging tides and the mountain kingdoms, Over the pastoral valleys and the meadows, Over the cities with their factory darkness, Over the lands where peace is still a power, Over all these and all this planet carries A power broods, invisible monarch, a stranger To some, but by many trusted. Man’s a believer […]...
14. Chorus Give away her gowns, Give away her shoes; She has no more use For her fragrant gowns; Take them all down, Blue, green, blue, Lilac, pink, blue, From their padded hangers; She will dance no more In her narrow shoes; Sweep her narrow shoes From the closet floor....
15. A Song Of Despair The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars […]...
16. The Parting of Ways THE SKIES from black to pearly grey Had veered without a star or sun; Only a burning opal ray Fell on your brow when all was done. Aye, after victory, the crown; Yet through the fight no word of cheer; And what would win and what go down No word could help, no light make […]...
17. L'envoy Now in a thought, now in a shadowed word, Now in a voice that thrills eternity, Ever there comes an onward phrase to me Of some transcendent music I have heard; No piteous thing by soft hands dulcimered, No trumpet crash of blood-sick victory, But a glad strain of some vast harmony That no brief […]...
18. A PARANAETICALL, OR ADVISIVE VERSETO HIS FRIEND, MR JOHN WICKS Is this a life, to break thy sleep, To rise as soon as day doth peep? To tire thy patient ox or ass By noon, and let thy good days pass, Not knowing this, that Jove decrees Some mirth, t’ adulce man’s miseries? No; ’tis a life to have thine oil Without extortion from thy […]...
19. The Wife of Flanders Low and brown barns, thatched and repatched and tattered, Where I had seven sons until to-day, A little hill of hay your spur has scattered. . . . This is not Paris. You have lost your way. You, staring at your sword to find it brittle, Surprised at the surprise that was your plan, Who, […]...
20. Vickery's Mountain Blue in the west the mountain stands, And through the long twilight Vickery sits with folded hands, And Vickery’s eyes are bright. Bright, for he knows what no man else On earth as yet may know: There’s a golden word that he never tells, And a gift that he will not show. He dreams of […]...
21. Where I have lost, I softer tread Where I have lost, I softer tread I sow sweet flower from garden bed I pause above that vanished head And mourn. Whom I have lost, I pious guard From accent harsh, or ruthless word Feeling as if their pillow heard, Though stone! When I have lost, you’ll know by this A Bonnet black A […]...
22. Blossom In April The ponds open Like black blossoms, The moon Swims in every one; There’s fire Everywhere: frogs shouting Their desire, Their satisfaction. What We know: that time Chops at us all like an iron Hoe, that death Is a state of paralysis. What We long for: joy Before death, nights In the swale – […]...
23. A Cliff Dwelling There sandy seems the golden sky And golden seems the sandy plain. No habitation meets the eye Unless in the horizon rim, Some halfway up the limestone wall, That spot of black is not a stain Or shadow, but a cavern hole, Where someone used to climb and crawl To rest from his besetting fears. […]...
24. Parting Words When I go from hence Let this be my parting word, That what I have seen is unsurpassable. I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus That expands on the ocean of light, And thus am I blessed – let this be my parting word. In this playhouse of infinite forms I have […]...
25. For this accepted Breath For this accepted Breath Through it compete with Death The fellow cannot touch this Crown By it my title take Ah, what a royal sake To my necessity stooped down! No Wilderness can be Where this attendeth me No Desert Noon No fear of frost to come Haunt the perennial bloom But Certain June! Get […]...
26. Ne Sit Ancillae Tibi Amor Pudor THERE’S just a twinkle in your eye That seems to say I MIGHT, if I Were only bold enough to try An arm about your waist. I hear, too, as you come and go, That pretty nervous laugh, you know; And then your cap is always so Coquettishly displaced. Your cap! the word’s profanely said. […]...
27. Uganda cry i have lost touch over the years With the hot africa inside me Illness and all – i spread to root In the red earth siphoned the sun Loved the black inflections of my eyes Cut callow cords and found new forms Felt free to fashion and freely raised Orchards of feelings where the groves […]...
28. The Black Unicorn The black unicorn is greedy. The black unicorn is impatient. ‘The black unicorn was mistaken For a shadow or symbol And taken Through a cold country Where mist painted mockeries Of my fury. It is not on her lap where the horn rests But deep in her moonpit Growing. The black unicorn is restless The […]...
29. One's-Self I Sing ONE’S-SELF I sing-a simple, separate Person; Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-masse. Of Physiology from top to toe I sing; Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the muse-I say the Form complete is worthier far; The Female equally with the male I sing. Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and […]...
30. Those Dancing Days Are Gone Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up In as foul a rag: I carry the sun in a golden cup. The moon in a silver bag. Curse as you may I sing it through; What […]...
31. Mist Forms THE SHEETS of night mist travel a long valley. I know why you came at sundown in a scarf mist. What was it we touched asking nothing and asking all? How many times can death come and pay back what we saw? In the oath of the sod, the lips that swore, In the oath […]...
32. There's Another Blessed Horse Fell Down When you’re lying in your hammock, sleeping soft and sleeping sound, Without a care or trouble on your mind, And there’s nothing to disturb you but the engines going round, And you’re dreaming of the girl you left behind; In the middle of your joys you’ll be wakened by a noise And a clatter on […]...
33. History Of The Night Throughout the course of the generations Men constructed the night. At first she was blindness; Thorns raking bare feet, Fear of wolves. We shall never know who forged the word For the interval of shadow Dividing the two twilights; We shall never know in what age it came to mean The starry hours. Others created […]...
34. Sonnet VII The strong man’s hand, the snow-cool head of age, The certain-footed sympathies of youth – These, and that lofty passion after truth, Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sage Or the great men of former years, he needs That not unworthily would dare to sing (Hard task!) black care’s inevitable ring Settling with years upon the […]...
35. Ailsie, My Bairn Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn, Lie in my arms and dinna greit; Long time been past syn I kenned you last, But my harte been allwais the same, my swete. Ailsie, I colde not say you ill, For out of the mist of your bitter tears, And the prayers that rise from your […]...
36. Rhyme-Smith Oh, I was born a lyric babe (That last word is a bore – It’s only rhyme is astrolabe,” Whose meaning I ignore.) From cradlehood I lisped in numbers, Made jingles even in my slumbers. Said Ma: “He’ll be a bard, I know it.” Said Pa: “let’s hoe he will outgrow it.” Alas! I never […]...
37. Last Answers I wrote a poem on the mist And a woman asked me what I meant by it. I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist, how pearl and gray of it mix and reel, And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening into points of mystery quivering with color. […]...
38. The O'Rahilly Sing of the O’Rahilly, Do not deny his right; Sing a ‘the’ before his name; Allow that he, despite All those learned historians, Established it for good; He wrote out that word himself, He christened himself with blood. How goes the weather? Sing of the O’Rahilly That had such little sense He told Pearse and […]...
39. Death Fugue Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown We drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night We drink it and drink it We dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes He writes when […]...
40. TO ROBIN RED-BREAST Laid out for dead, let thy last kindness be With leaves and moss-work for to cover me; And while the wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter, Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister! For epitaph, in foliage, next write this: HERE, HERE THE TOMB OF ROBIN HERRICK IS!...