A faded Boy in sallow Clothes

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1. When the Rose is Faded When the rose is faded, Memory may still dwell on Her beauty shadowed, And the sweet smell gone. That vanishing loveliness, That burdening breath, No bond of life hath then, Nor grief of death. ‘Tis the immortal thought Whose passion still Makes the changing The unchangeable. Oh, thus thy beauty, Loveliest on earth to me, […]...
2. The Faded Flower Ungrateful he, who pluck’d thee from thy stalk, Poor faded flow’ret! on his careless way; Inhal’d awhile thy odours on his walk, Then onward pass’d and left thee to decay. Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen Thy modest beauties dew’d with Evening’s gem, I had not rudely cropp’d thy parent stem, But left thee, blushing, […]...
3. The Bible is an antique Volume The Bible is an antique Volume Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectres Subjects Bethlehem Eden the ancient Homestead Satan the Brigadier Judas the Great Defaulter David the Troubador Sin a distinguished Precipice Others must resist Boys that “believe” are very lonesome Other Boys are “lost” Had but the Tale a warbling […]...
4. The Wind didn't come from the Orchard today The Wind didn’t come from the Orchard today Further than that Nor stop to play with the Hay Nor joggle a Hat He’s a transitive fellow very Rely on that If He leave a Bur at the door We know He has climbed a Fir But the Fir is Where Declare Were you ever there? […]...
5. The Faded Bouquet FAIR was this blushing ROSE of May, And fresh it hail’d morn’s breezy hour, When ev’ry spangled leaf look’d gay, Besprinkled with the twilight show’r; When to its mossy buds so sweet, The BUTTERFLY enamour’d flew, And hov’ring o’er the fragrant treat, Oft bath’d its silken wings in dew. SWEET was this PRIMROSE of the […]...
6. Clothes Put on a clean shirt Before you die, some Russian said. Nothing with drool, please, No egg spots, no blood, No sweat, no sperm. You want me clean, God, So I’ll try to comply. The hat I was married in, Will it do? White, broad, fake flowers in a tiny array. It’s old-fashioned, as stylish […]...
7. UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Till, then, methinks, how sweetly flows That liquefaction of her clothes! Next, when I cast mine eyes, and see That brave vibration each way free; O how that glittering taketh...
8. Clothes chapter X And the weaver said, “Speak to us of Clothes.” And he answered: Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful. And though you seek in garments the freedom of privacy you may find in them a harness and a chain. Would that you could meet the sun and the wind […]...
9. The Men Who Wear My Clothes Sleepless I lay last night and watched the slow Procession of the men who wear my clothes: First, the grey man with bloodshot eyes and sly Gestures miming what he loves and loathes. Next came the cheery knocker-back of pints, The beery joker, never far from tears, Whose loud and public vanity acquaints The careful […]...
10. Dead man's clothes Growing up, I propose, Is like wearing a dead man’s clothes. Death has a way of levelling the ground. I have found the closer your relationship The closer the fit; The unsettling bit is the fear Of not fitting the role, or where Your forbear made a name or leashed A reputation, which by imputation […]...
11. His Feet are shod with Gauze His Feet are shod with Gauze His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid. His Labor is a Chant His Idleness a Tune Oh, for a Bee’s experience Of Clovers, and of Noon!...
12. A Caution To Everybody Consider the auk; Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk. Consider man, who may well become extinct Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked....
13. Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake I My Paistin Finn is my sole desire, And I am shrunken to skin and bone, For all my heart has had for its hire Is what I can whistle alone and alone. Oro, oro! Tomorrow night I will break down the door. What is the good of a man and he Alone and alone, […]...
14. I cautious, scanned my little life I cautious, scanned my little life I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads like mine Should be a-dreaming laid. I put the latter in a Barn The former, blew away. I went one winter morning And lo – my priceless Hay Was not upon the “Scaffold” Was not upon the “Beam” […]...
15. We Bee and I live by the quaffing We Bee and I live by the quaffing ‘Tisn’t all Hock with us Life has its Ale But it’s many a lay of the Dim Burgundy We chant for cheer when the Wines fail Do we “get drunk”? Ask the jolly Clovers! Do we “beat” our “Wife”? I never wed Bee pledges his in minute […]...
16. The Wildy Ones The sheep are in the silver wood, The cows are in the broom; The goats are in the wild mountain And won’t be home by noon. My mother sang that olden tune Most every night, And to her newest she would croon By candle light; While cuddling in the velvet gloom I’d dream of cows […]...
17. Joy to have merited the Pain Joy to have merited the Pain To merit the Release Joy to have perished every step To Compass Paradise Pardon to look upon thy face With these old fashioned Eyes Better than new could be for that Though bought in Paradise Because they looked on thee before And thou hast looked on them Prove Me […]...
18. The Whale The Whale is found in seas and oceans, Indulging there in fishlike motions, But Science shows that Whales are mammals, Like Jersey cows, and goats, and camels. When undisturbed, the Whale will browse Like camels, goats, and Jersey cows, On food that satisfies its tongue, Thus making milk to feed its young. Asking no costly […]...
19. 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...
20. 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...
21. Palladiums IN the newspaper office-who are the spooks? Who wears the mythic coat invisible? Who pussyfoots from desk to desk with a speaking forefinger? Who gumshoes amid the copy paper with a whispering thumb? Speak softly-the sacred cows may hear. Speak easy-the sacred cows must be fed....
22. Rip It can’t be the passing of time that casts That white shadow across the waters Just offshore. I shiver a little, with the evening. I turn down the steep path to find What’s left of the river gold. I whistle a dog lazily, and lazily A bird whistles me. Close by a big river, I […]...
23. 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 […]...
24. 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!...
25. How Human Nature dotes How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct Prospective is the friend Reserved for us to know When Constancy is clarified Of Curiosity Of subjects that resist Redoubtablest is this Where go we Go we anywhere Creation after this?...
26. Once It Was The Colour Of Saying Once it was the colour of saying Soaked my table the uglier side of a hill With a capsized field where a school sat still And a black and white patch of girls grew playing; The gentle seaslides of saying I must undo That all the charmingly drowned arise to cockcrow and kill. When I […]...
27. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
28. Horses and Men in Rain LET us sit by a hissing steam radiator a winter’s day, gray wind pattering frozen raindrops on the window, And let us talk about milk wagon drivers and grocery delivery boys. Let us keep our feet in wool slippers and mix hot punches-and talk about mail carriers and messenger boys slipping along the icy sidewalks. […]...
29. From Cocoon forth a Butterfly From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged a Summer Afternoon Repairing Everywhere Without Design that I could trace Except to stray abroad On Miscellaneous Enterprise The Clovers understood Her pretty Parasol be seen Contracting in a Field Where Men made Hay Then struggling hard With an opposing Cloud Where Parties Phantom […]...
30. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
31. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set 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. A Bushman's Song I’M travellin’ down the Castlereagh, and I’m a station hand, I’m handy with the ropin’ pole, I’m handy with the brand, And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing the axe all day, But there’s no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh. + So it’s shift, boys, shift, for there isn’t the slightest […]...
34. How dare the robins sing How dare the robins sing, When men and women hear Who since they went to their account Have settled with the year! Paid all that life had earned In one consummate bill, And now, what life or death can do Is immaterial. Insulting is the sun To him whose mortal light Beguiled of immortality Bequeaths […]...
35. Wants Beyond all this, the wish to be alone: However the sky grows dark with invitation-cards However we follow the printed directions of sex However the family is photographed under the flag-staff – Beyond all this, the wish to be alone. Beneath it all, the desire for oblivion runs: Despite the artful tensions of the calendar, […]...
36. The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone, Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang’rous waist! Faded the flower and all its budded charms, Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes, Faded the shape of beauty from my […]...
37. A Door just opened on a street A Door just opened on a street I lost was passing by An instant’s Width of Warmth disclosed And Wealth and Company. The Door as instant shut And I I lost was passing by Lost doubly but by contrast most Informing misery...
38. Flanders FLANDERS, the name of a place, a country of people, Spells itself with letters, is written in books. “Where is Flanders?” was asked one time, Flanders known only to those who lived there And milked cows and made cheese and spoke the home language. “Where is Flanders?” was asked. And the slang adepts shot the […]...
39. For A Coming Extinction Gray whale Now that we are sinding you to The End That great god Tell him That we who follow you invented forgiveness And forgive nothing I write as though you could understand And I could say it One must always pretend something Among the dying When you have left the seas nodding on their […]...
40. The Sky is low the Clouds are mean The Sky is low the Clouds are mean. A Travelling Flake of Snow Across a Barn or through a Rut Debates if it will go A Narrow Wind complains all Day How some one treated him Nature, like Us is sometimes caught Without her Diadem....