Comfort

Related poetry:

1. COMFORT IN TEARS How happens it that thou art sad, While happy all appear? Thine eye proclaims too well that thou Hast wept full many a tear. “If I have wept in solitude, None other shares my grief, And tears to me sweet balsam are, And give my heart relief.” Thy happy friends invite thee now, Oh come, […]...
2. The Fairy Bridal-Hymn [This is the hymn to Eleanor, daughter of Mab and a golden drone, sung by the Locust choir when the fairy child marries her God, the yellow rose] This is a song to the white-armed one Cold in the breast as the frost-wrapped Spring, Whose feet are slow on the hills of life, Whose round […]...
3. The Bards Of Olden Time Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled, Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind up to heaven, And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of song? Ah! the singers still live; the actions only are wanting, […]...
4. 533. Song-Forlorn, my love, no comfort here FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near, Far, far from thee, I wander here; Far, far from thee, the fate severe, At which I most repine, Love. Chorus.-O wert thou, Love, but near me! But near, near, near me, How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, And mingle sighs with mine, Love. Around me scowls a wintry […]...
5. Romance To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed, Scented and warm against my beating breast; To whisper soft and quivering your name, And drink the passion burning in your frame; To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek, And tease your mouth with kisses till you speak Love words, mad words, dream […]...
6. Forgetfulness Forgetfulness is like a song That, freed from beat and measure, wanders. Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled, Outspread and motionless, A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly. Forgetfulness is rain at night, Or an old house in a forest, or a child. Forgetfulness is white, white as a blasted tree, And […]...
7. Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign To put upon the cover of this book? Who heard thee singing in the distance dim, The vague, far greenness of the enshrouding wood, When the damp freshness of the morning earth Was full of pungent sweetness and thy song? Who followed over moss and twisted […]...
8. Concord Reconciled by death’s mild hand, that giving Peace gives wisdom, not more strong than mild, Love beholds them, each without misgiving Reconciled. Each on earth alike of earth reviled, Hated, feared, derided, and forgiving, Each alike had heaven at heart, and smiled. Both bright names, clothed round with man’s thanksgiving, Shine, twin stars above the […]...
9. The Nurse Such innocent companionship Is hers, whether she wake or sleep, ‘Tis scarcely strange her face should wear The young child’s grave and innocent air. All the night long she hath by her The quiet breathing, the soft stir, Nor knows how in that tender place The children’s angels veil the face. She wakes at dawn […]...
10. Sonnet 144: Two loves I have, of comfort and despair Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a […]...
11. When on a Summer's Morn When on a summer’s morn I wake, And open my two eyes, Out to the clear, born-singing rills My bird-like spirit flies. To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or any bird in song; And common leaves that hum all day Without a throat or tongue. And when Time strikes the hour for sleep, Back in […]...
12. The Cuckoo The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight, With narrow pointed wings Whews o’er our heads-soon out of sight And as she flies she sings: And darting down the hedgerow side She scares the little bird Who leaves the nest it cannot hide While plaintive notes are heard. I’ve watched it on an old oak tree […]...
13. The Three Songs The poet sang of a battle-field Where doughty deeds were done, Where stout blows rang on helm and shield And a kingdom’s fate was spun With the scarlet thread of victory, And honor from death’s grim revelry Like a flame-red flower was won! So bravely he sang that all who heard With the sting of […]...
14. On a Portrait of a Deaf Man The kind old face, the egg-shaped head, The tie, discreetly loud, The loosely fitting shooting clothes, A closely fitting shroud. He liked old city dining rooms, Potatoes in their skin, But now his mouth is wide to let The London clay come in. He took me on long silent walks In country lanes when young. […]...
15. Mothers Are a Special Gift Mothers are a special gift sent From God above, They bless us with their nurturing, And fill us with their love. They pick us up when we are down, And when we’re sad they know, They’re always there to lend a hand, And guide us as we go. And mothers are like special jewels That […]...
16. Refrain Of all the songs which poets sing The ones which are most sweet Are those which at close intervals A low refrain repeat; Some tender word, some syllable, Over and over, ever and ever, While the song lasts, Altering never, Music if sung, music if said, Subtle like some golden thread A shuttle casts, In […]...
17. Comfort Say! You’ve struck a heap of trouble Bust in business, lost your wife; No one cares a cent about you, You don’t care a cent for life; Hard luck has of hope bereft you, Health is failing, wish you’d die Why, you’ve still the sunshine left you And the big, blue sky. Sky so blue […]...
18. Small Comfort Coffee and cigarettes in a clean cafe, Forsythia lit like a damp match against A thundery sky drunk on its own ozone, The laundry cool and crisp and folded away Again in the lavender closet-too late to find Comfort enough in such small daily moments Of beauty, renewal, calm, too late to imagine People would […]...
19. COMFORT TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth, She thinks not on What’s said or done In earth: She sees no tears, Or any tone Of thy deep groan She hears; Nor does she mind, Or think on’t now, That ever thou Wast kind: But changed above, […]...
20. To Kathleen, after Neruda As the salmon seeks its mother gravel Through the lying ions of the sea, I seek you. Without your body my blankets are cold, The ground hard, my joints uneasy. Apart, I am a mold for your bronze Halved, discarded. Do you know this hollow? There is no shame in love. Daily I embarrass myself, […]...
21. Song's Eternity What is song’s eternity? Come and see. Can it noise and bustle be? Come and see. Praises sung or praises said Can it be? Wait awhile and these are dead – Sigh, sigh; Be they high or lowly bred They die. What is song’s eternity? Come and see. Melodies of earth and sky, Here they […]...
22. The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point I. I stand on the mark beside the shore Of the first white pilgrim’s bended knee, Where exile turned to ancestor, And God was thanked for liberty. I have run through the night, my skin is as dark, I bend my knee down on this mark. . . I look on the sky and the […]...
23. Song VII: Dawn Talks to Day Dawn talks to Day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet And with dreams thine eyes glistening, Thy still lips are sweet Though the world is a-listening. O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting, Cast thine arms round about me to stay my […]...
24. Night Ray Most brightly of all burned the hair of my evening loved one: To her I send the coffin of lightest wood. Waves billow round it as round the bed of our dream in Rome; It wears a white wig as I do and speaks hoarsely: It talks as I do when I grant admittance to […]...
25. Spring in the South Now in the oak the sap of life is welling, Tho’ to the bough the rusty leafage clings; Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling, See how the pine-wood grows alive with wings; Blue-jays fluttering, yodeling and crying, Meadow-larks sailing low above the faded grass, Red-birds whistling clear, silent robins flying, Who has […]...
26. That Bright Chimeric Beast That bright chimeric beast Conceived yet never born, Save in the poet’s breast, The white-flanked unicorn, Never may be shaken From his solitude; Never may be taken In any earthly wood. That bird forever feathered, Of its new self the sire, After aeons weathered, Reincarnate by fire, Falcon may not nor eagle Swerve from his […]...
27. Charles Carville's Eyes A melanholy face Charles Carville had, But not so melancholy as it seemed, When once you knew him, for his mouth redeemed His insufficient eyes, forever sad: In them there was no life-glimpse, good or bad, Nor joy nor passion in them ever gleamed; His mouth was all of him that ever beamed, His eyes […]...
28. The Selfsame Song A bird sings the selfsame song, With never a fault in its flow, That we listened to here those long Long years ago. A pleasing marvel is how A strain of such rapturous rote Should have gone on thus till now Unchanged in a note! But its not the selfsame bird. No: perished to dust […]...
29. Under The Balcony O beautiful star with the crimson mouth! O moon with the brows of gold! Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south! And light for my love her way, Lest her little feet should stray On the windy hill and the wold! O beautiful star with the crimson mouth! O moon with the brows of […]...
30. Sonnet 21 – Say over again, and yet once over again Say over again, and yet once over again, That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated Should seem ‘a cuckoo-song,’ as thou dost treat it, Remember, never to the hill or plain, Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed. Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted By […]...
31. Sonnet 33 – Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear The name I used to run at, when a child, From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled, To glance up in some face that proved me dear With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled Into […]...
32. Twice I took my heart in my hand (O my love, O my love), I said: Let me fall or stand, Let me live or die, But this once hear me speak – (O my love, O my love)- Yet a woman’s words are weak; You should speak, not I. You took my heart in your […]...
33. When I was a Bird I climbed up the karaka tree Into a nest all made of leaves But soft as feathers. I made up a song that went on singing all by itself And hadn’t any words, but got sad at the end. There were daisies in the grass under the tree. I said just to try them: “I’ll […]...
34. Rest ON me to rest, my bird, my bird: The swaying branches of my heart Are blown by every wind toward The home whereto their wings depart. Build not your nest, my bird, on me; I know no peace but ever sway: O lovely bird, be free, be free, On the wild music of the day. […]...
35. Carrion Comfort Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist-slack they may be-these last strands of man In me уr, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be. But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me Thy […]...
36. Comfort DARK head by the fireside brooding, Where upon your ears Whirlwinds of the earth intruding Sound in wrath and tears: Tender-hearted, in your lonely Sorrow I would fain Comfort you, and say that only Gods could feel such pain. Only spirits know such longing For the far away; And the fiery fancies thronging Rise not […]...
37. Song of the Soul XXII In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song – a song that lives In the seed of my heart. It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment; it engulfs my affection In a transparent cloak and flows, But not upon my lips. How can I sigh it? I fear it may Mingle […]...
38. The Lark And I have seen, At dawn, The lark Spin out of the long grass And into the pink air – Its wings, Which are neither wide Nor overstrong, Fluttering – The pectorals Ploughing and flashing For nothing but altitude – And the song Bursting All the while From the red throat. And then he descends, […]...
39. About The Nightingale From a letter from STC to Wordsworth after writing The Nightingale: In stale blank verse a subject stale I send per post my Nightingale; And like an honest bard, dear Wordsworth, You’ll tell me what you think, my Bird’s worth. My own opinion’s briefly this His bill he opens not amiss; And when he has […]...
40. 'Twas comfort in her Dying Room ‘Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock Diversion from the Dying Theme To hear the children play But wrong the more That these could live And this of ours must die....