Lay It Away

Related poetry:

1. Old Times Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times; Of the long lost golden hours. When “Winter” meant only Christmas chimes, And “Summer” wreaths of flowers. Life has grown old, and cold, my friend, And the winter now, means death. And summer blossoms speak all too plain Of the dear, dead forms beneath. But […]...
2. Philosophy Ere all the world had grown so drear, When I was young and you were here, ‘Mid summer roses in summer weather, What pleasant times we’ve had together! We were not Phyllis, simple-sweet, And Corydon; we did not meet By brook or meadow, but among A Philistine and flippant throng Which much we scorned; (less […]...
3. Her Reproach Con the dead page as ’twere live love: press on! Cold wisdom’s words will ease thy track for thee; Aye, go; cast off sweet ways, and leave me wan To biting blasts that are intent on me. But if thy object Fame’s far summits be, Whose inclines many a skeleton o’erlies That missed both dream […]...
4. Cherry-Time Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune: Merry, merry, Take a cherry; Mine are sounder, Mine are rounder, Mine are sweeter For the eater Under the moon. And you’ll be fairies soon. In the cherry pluckt at night, With […]...
5. Lines Written at Thorp Green That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime With feeble ray, before the time I long so much to see. And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a […]...
6. A Calendar of Sonnets: November This is the treacherous month when autumn days With summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts. Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways, And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts, The violet returns. Snow noiseless sifts Ere […]...
7. Night And Day The innocent, sweet Day is dead. Dark Night hath slain her in her bed. O, Moors are as fierce to kill as to wed! Put out the light, said he. A sweeter light than ever rayed From star of heaven or eye of maid Has vanished in the unknown Shade. She’s dead, she’s dead, said […]...
8. Come down, O Maid COME down, O maid, from yonder mountain height: What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, To sit a star upon the sparkling spire; And come, for Love […]...
9. 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 […]...
10. Sardis (Revelations, iii. 1-6) “Write to Sardis,” saith the Lord, “And write what He declares, He whose Spirit, and whose word, Upholds the seven stars: All thy works and ways I search, Find thy zeal and love decay’d; Thou art call’d a living church, But thou art cold and dead. “Watch, remember, seek, and strive, Exert […]...
11. Autumn Whoever has no house now will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone Will sit, read, write long letters through the evening And wander on the boulevards, up and down… – from Autumn Day, Rainer Maria Rilke Its stain is everywhere. The sharpening air Of late afternoon Is now the colour of tea. […]...
12. Oh! Mr Best You're Very Bad Oh! Mr. Best, you’re very bad And all the world shall know it; Your base behaviour shall be sung By me, a tunefull Poet. You used to go to Harrowgate Each summer as it came, And why I pray should you refuse To go this year the same? The way’s as plain, the road’s as […]...
13. The best days of my life What is it about Bryan Adams and his song ‘Summer of 69’? Why do the lyrics linger? Was it 90° in the shade and the harbinger of the end Of the golden weather, or the impending closure Of a glorious decade? He should have called it ‘The best days of my life’, it would have […]...
14. Les Lauriers Sont Coupée Ah, love, within the shadow of the wood The laurels are cut down; some other brows May bear the classic wreath which Fame allows And find the burden honorable and good. Have we not passed the laurels as they stood Soft in the veil with which Spring endows The wintry glitter of their woven boughs […]...
15. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
16. 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 […]...
17. A Child's Laughter ALL the bells of heaven may ring, All the birds of heaven may sing, All the wells on earth may spring, All the winds on earth may bring All sweet sounds together – Sweeter far than all things heard, Hand of harper, tone of bird, Sound of woods at sundawn stirred, Welling water’s winsome word, […]...
18. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
19. A Mile With Me O who will walk a mile with me Along life’s merry way? A comrade blithe and full of glee, Who dares to laugh out loud and free, And let his frolic fancy play, Like a happy child, through the flowers gay That fill the field and fringe the way Where he walks a mile with […]...
20. Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swooned, nor uttered cry: All her maidens, watching, said, ‘She must weep or she will die.’ Then they praised him, soft and low, Called him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly […]...
21. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
22. The Princess: A Medley: Home they Brought her Warrior Dead Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swoon’d nor utter’d cry: All her maidens, watching, said, “She must weep or she will die.” Then they praised him, soft and low, Call’d him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly […]...
23. My Vision Wherever my feet may wander Wherever I chance to be, There comes, with the coming of even’ time A vision sweet to me. I see my mother sitting In the old familiar place, And she rocks to the tune her needles sing, And thinks of an absent face. I can hear the roar of the […]...
24. Sorrow's Uses The uses of sorrow I comprehend Better and better at each year’s end. Deeper and deeper I seem to see Why and wherefore it has to be Only after the dark, wet days Do we fully rejoice in the sun’s bright rays. Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast Than the sated gourmand’s finest repast. […]...
25. I shall keep singing! I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes Each with a Robin’s expectation I with my Redbreast And my Rhymes Late when I take my place in summer But I shall bring a fuller tune Vespers are sweeter than Matins Signor Morning only the seed of Noon...
26. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
27. 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. […]...
28. 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!...
29. Whom We Worship I WOULD not have the love of lips and eyes, The ancient ways of love: But in my heart I built a Paradise, A nest there for the dove. I felt the wings of light that fluttered through The gate I held apart: And all without was shadow, but I knew The bird within my […]...
30. Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three […]...
31. Sonnet CIV To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three […]...
32. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
33. I reckon when I count it all I reckon when I count it all First Poets Then the Sun Then Summer Then the Heaven of God And then the List is done But, looking back the First so seems To Comprehend the Whole The Others look a needless Show So I write Poets All Their Summer lasts a Solid Year They can […]...
34. I Would in That Sweet Bosom Be I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!) Where no rude wind might visit me. Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be. I would be ever in that heart (O soft I knock and soft entreat her!) Where only peace might be my part. […]...
35. In the Dark Pine-Wood In the dark pine-wood I would we lay, In deep cool shadow At noon of day. How sweet to lie there, Sweet to kiss, Where the great pine-forest Enaisled is! Thy kiss descending Sweeter were With a soft tumult Of thy hair. O unto the pine-wood At noon of day Come with me now, Sweet […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. My Legacy My friend has gone away from me From shadow into perfect light, But leaving a sweet legacy. My heart shall hold it long in fee­ A grand ideal, calm and bright, A song of hope for ministry, A faith of unstained purity, A thought of beauty for delight­ These did my friend bequeath to me; […]...
38. 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...
39. Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
40. A Lovers' Quarrel We two were lovers, the Sea and I; We plighted our troth ‘neath a summer sky. And all through the riotous ardent weather We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together. * * * At times my lover would rage and storm. I said: ‘No matter, his heart is warm.’ Whatever his humour, I loved his […]...