Trespassers

Related poetry:

1. The Sands of Dee 1 “O Mary, go and call the cattle home, 2 And call the cattle home, 3 And call the cattle home 4 Across the sands of Dee”; 5 The western wind was wild and dank with foam, 6 And all alone went she. 7 The western tide crept up along the sand, 8 And o’er […]...
2. Nearer, my God, to Thee Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee! E’en though it be a cross That raiseth me: Still all my song shall be Nearer, my God! to Thee, Nearer to Thee. Though, like the wanderer, The sun gone down, Darkness be over me, My rest a stone; Yet in my dreams I’d be Nearer, my […]...
3. Infelice Walking swiftly with a dreadful duchess, He smiled too briefly, his face was pale as sand, He jumped into a taxi when he saw me coming, Leaving my alone with a private meaning, He loves me so much, my heart is singing. Later at the Club when I rang him in the evening They said: […]...
4. Ein Yahav A night drive to Ein Yahav in the Arava Desert, A drive in the rain. Yes, in the rain. There I met people who grow date palms, There I saw tamarisk trees and risk trees, There I saw hope barbed as barbed wire. And I said to myself: That’s true, hope needs to be Like […]...
5. 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 […]...
6. 262. Delia: An Ode FAIR the face of orient day, Fair the tints of op’ning rose; But fairer still my Delia dawns, More lovely far her beauty shows. Sweet the lark’s wild warbled lay, Sweet the tinkling rill to hear; But, Delia, more delightful still, Steal thine accents on mine ear. The flower-enamour’d busy bee The rosy banquet loves […]...
7. 424. Song-Phillis the Fair WHILE larks, with little wing, Fann’d the pure air, Tasting the breathing Spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun’s golden eye Peep’d o’er the mountains high; Such thy morn! did I cry, Phillis the fair. In each bird’s careless song, Glad I did share; While yon wild-flowers among, Chance led me there! Sweet to […]...
8. Letter to an Archaeologist Citizen, enemy, mama’s boy, sucker, utter Garbage, panhandler, swine, refujew, verrucht; A scalp so often scalded with boiling water That the puny brain feels completely cooked. Yes, we have dwelt here: in this concrete, brick, wooden Rubble which you now arrive to sift. All our wires were crossed, barbed, tangled, or interwoven. Also: we didn’t […]...
9. My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130) My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And […]...
10. Sonnet CXXX My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask’d, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And […]...
11. The Daisy follows soft the Sun The Daisy follows soft the Sun And when his golden walk is done Sits shyly at his feet He waking finds the flower there Wherefore Marauder art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet! We are the Flower Thou the Sun! Forgive us, if as days decline We nearer steal to Thee! Enamored of the […]...
12. 210. Song-Stay my Charmer STAY my charmer, can you leave me? Cruel, cruel to deceive me; Well you know how much you grieve me; Cruel charmer, can you go! Cruel charmer, can you go! By my love so ill-requited, By the faith you fondly plighted, By the pangs of lovers slighted, Do not, do not liave me so! Do […]...
13. To Sylvia “O love, lean thou thy cheek to mine, And let the tears together flow” Such was the song you sang to me Once, long ago. Such was the song you sang; and yet (O be not wroth!) I scarcely knew What sounds flow’d forth; I only felt That you were you. I scarcely knew your […]...
14. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
15. Another Imitation Of Anacreon PRONE, on my couch I calmly slept Against my wont. A little child Awoke me as he gently crept And beat my door. A tempest wild Was raging-dark and cold the night. “Have pity on my naked plight,” He begged, “and ope thy door”. “Thy name?” I asked admitting him. “The same “Anon I’ll tell, […]...
16. Wires The widest prairies have electric fences, For though old cattle know they must not stray Young steers are always scenting purer water Not here but anywhere. Beyond the wires Leads them to blunder up against the wires Whose muscle-shredding violence gives no quarter. Young steers become old cattle from that day, Electric limits to their […]...
17. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
18. To May I have no heart to write verses to May; I have no heart-yet I’m cheerful today; I have no heart-she has won mine away So-I have no heart to write verses to May....
19. That V. C ‘Twas in the days of front attack; This glorious truth we’d yet to learn it That every “front” has got a back. And French was just the man to turn it. A wounded soldier on the ground Was lying hid behind a hummock; He proved the good old proverb sound An army travels on its […]...
20. The Pipes At Lucknow Pipes of the misty moorlands, Voice of the glens and hills; The droning of the torrents, The treble of the rills! Not the braes of bloom and heather, Nor the mountains dark with rain, Nor maiden bower, nor border tower, Have heard your sweetest strain! Dear to the Lowland reaper, And plaided mountaineer, – To […]...
21. The Sliprails And The Spur The colours of the setting sun Withdrew across the Western land- He raised the sliprails, one by one, And shot them home with trembling hand; Her brown hands clung-her face grew pale- Ah! quivering chin and eyes that brim!- One quick, fierce kiss across the rail, And, ‘Good-bye, Mary!’ ‘Good-bye, Jim!’ Oh, he rides hard […]...
22. Union and Liberty FLAG of the heroes who left us their glory, Borne through their battle-fields’ thunder and flame, Blazoned in song and illumined in story, Wave o’er us all who inherit their fame! Up with our banner bright, Sprinkled with starry light, Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore, While through the sounding sky Loud rings […]...
23. Womanly Qualms When I go rowing on the lake, I long to be a man; I’ll give my Sunday frock to have A callous heart like Dan. I love the ripple of the waves When gliding o’er the deep, But when I see the cruel ours, I close my eyes and weep; For there are cat-fish in […]...
24. Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven it self for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems, With April’s first-born flowers, and […]...
25. Sonnet XXI So is it not with me as with that Muse Stirr’d by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse Making a couplement of proud compare, With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems, With April’s first-born flowers, and all […]...
26. THE CRUEL MAID AND, cruel maid, because I see You scornful of my love, and me, I’ll trouble you no more, but go My way, where you shall never know What is become of me; there I Will find me out a path to die, Or learn some way how to forget You and your name for ever; […]...
27. 536. Song-This is no my ain lassie Chorus-This is no my ain lassie, Fair tho, the lassie be; Weel ken I my ain lassie, Kind love is in her e’re. I SEE a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi’ the fairest place; It wants, to me, the witching grace, The kind love that’s in her e’e. This is no […]...
28. Disillusionment Of Ten O'clock The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings, Or yellow with blue rings. None of them are strange, With socks of lace And beaded ceintures. People are not going To dream of baboons and periwinkles. Only, here and there, an old sailor, Drunk […]...
29. An Evangelist's Wife “Why am I not myself these many days, You ask? And have you nothing more to ask? I do you wrong? I do not hear your praise To God for giving you me to share your task? “Jealous-of Her? Because her cheeks are pink, And she has eyes? No, not if she had seven. If […]...
30. Sweet, to have had them lost Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored, Shall stand to Our Right Hand Most precious and the Dead Next precious Those that rose to go Then thought of Us, and stayed....
31. The Lure Of Little Voices There’s a cry from out the loneliness oh, listen, Honey, listen! Do you hear it, do you fear it, you’re a-holding of me so? You’re a-sobbing in your sleep, dear, and your lashes, how they glisten Do you hear the Little Voices all a-begging me to go? All a-begging me to leave you. Day and […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. I Do Not Love Thee For That Fair I do not love thee for that fair Rich fan of thy most curious hair; Though the wires thereof be drawn Finer than threads of lawn, And are softer than the leaves On which the subtle spider weaves. I do not love thee for those flowers Growing on thy cheeks, love’s bowers; Though such cunning […]...
34. In Tempore Senectutis When I am old, And sadly steal apart, Into the dark and cold, Friend of my heart! Remember, if you can, Not him who lingers, but that other man, Who loved and sang, and had a beating heart, When I am old! When I am old, And all Love’s ancient fire Be tremulous and cold: […]...
35. Contrasts I see the tall church steeples, They reach so far, so far, But the eyes of my heart see the world’s great mart, Where the starving people are. I hear the church bells ringing Their chimes on the morning air; But my soul’s sad ear is hurt to hear The poor man’s cry of despair. […]...
36. The Coquette, and After (Triolets) I For long the cruel wish I knew That your free heart should ache for me While mine should bear no ache for you; For, long the cruel wish! I knew How men can feel, and craved to view My triumph fated not to be For long! . . . The cruel wish I knew […]...
37. The Thing Each time it rings I think it is for Me but it is Not for me nor for Anyone it merely Rings and we Serve it bitterly Together, they and I...
38. The Vine I dreamed this mortal part of mine Was metamorphosed to a vine, Which, crawling one and every way, Enthralled my dainty Lucia. Methought, her long small legs and thighs I with my tendrils did surprise: Her belley, buttocks, and her waist By my soft nervelets were embraced About her head I writhing hung And with […]...
39. 203. Sylvander to Clarinda WHEN dear Clarinda, 1 matchless fair, First struck Sylvander’s raptur’d view, He gaz’d, he listened to despair, Alas! ’twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda’s heavenly eyes, Transfixed his bosom thro’ and thro’; But still in Friendships’ guarded guise, For more the demon fear’d to do. That heart, already more than lost, The […]...
40. 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 […]...