A shady friend for Torrid days

Related poetry:

1. 208. Song-To the Weaver's gin ye go MY heart was ance as blithe and free As simmer days were lang; But a bonie, westlin weaver lad Has gart me change my sang. Chorus.-To the weaver’s gin ye go, fair maids, To the weaver’s gin ye go; I rede you right, gang ne’er at night, To the weaver’s gin ye go. My mither […]...
2. Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days FEAR not, dear friend, but freely live your days Though lesser lives should suffer. Such am I, A lesser life, that what is his of sky Gladly would give for you, and what of praise. Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways. We that have touched your raiment, are made whole From all the selfish […]...
3. 330. Song-The Gallant Weaver WHERE Cart rins rowin’ to the sea, By mony a flower and spreading tree, There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant Weaver. O, I had wooers aught or nine, They gied me rings and ribbons fine; And I was fear’d my heart wad tine, And I gied it to the […]...
4. THE SPINNER As I calmly sat and span, Toiling with all zeal, Lo! a young and handsome man Pass’d my spinning-wheel. And he praised, what harm was there? Sweet the things he said Praised my flax-resembling hair, And the even thread. He with this was not content, But must needs do more; And in twain the thread […]...
5. Golden Days Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That done, I shall not see again Until the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turn The pages of that […]...
6. Penelope name meaning thread weaver or duck (these may be guesses from obscurity) Ten-year faithful wife whilst her husband Was gallivanting round the islands Deceiving the suitors by her shroud-unpicking Or maybe not such a savoury dame having A high time with those after her favours Allegedly allowing hermes up her skirts And becoming the mother […]...
7. A Toast to the Men Here’s to the men! Since Adam’s time They’ve always been the same; Whenever anything goes wrong, The woman is to blame. From early morn to late at night, The men fault-finders are; They blame us if they oversleep, Or if they miss a car. They blame us if, beneath the bed, Their collar buttons roll; […]...
8. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
9. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
10. AN ODE TO MY JAILED FRIEND Unmasked – The spirits’ face is a black hole Swallowing the celestial beauty Of the stars. Caged – The sentinel is crouched Subsumed in seething pain Not pain but anger of being guiltless Yet ‘guilty’ for being in jail. The cell – No crime equals its greasy grey walls Thickly dark with no grills for […]...
11. 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 […]...
12. My friend attacks my friend! My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist! How martial is this place! Had I a mighty gun I think I’d shoot the human race And then to glory run!...
13. In the Days of the Golden Rod Across the meadow in brooding shadow I walk to drink of the autumn’s wine­ The charm of story, the artist’s glory, To-day on these silvering hills is mine; On height, in hollow, where’er I follow, By mellow hillside and searing sod, Its plumes uplifting, in light winds drifting, I see the glimmer of golden-rod. In […]...
14. My Friend, My Friend Who will forgive me for the things I do? With no special legend of God to refer to, With my calm white pedigree, my yankee kin, I think it would be better to be a Jew. I forgive you for what you did not do. I am impossibly quilty. Unlike you, My Friend, I can […]...
15. Days I am a Day. . . My sky is grey, My wind is wild, My sea high-piled: In year of days the first In misery. . . Oh pity me! I am a Day Accurst. “Sweet Day, not curst but blest: Behold upon my breast My baby born Your early morn. Safe in my arms […]...
16. THE DAYS GO BY for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want to, want to throw It away like an old worn-out cloak Or screw up like a ball of over-written Trash and toss into the corner bin. I said it must come up or out I […]...
17. Sonnet XXI: Your Words, My Friend Your words, my friend, (right healthful caustics) blame My young mind marr’d, whom Love doth windlass so, That mine own writings like bad servants show My wits, quick in vain thoughts, in virtue lame; That Plato I read for nought, but if he tame Such doltish gyres; that to my birth I owe Nobler desires, […]...
18. To His Honoured and Most Ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Cotton For brave comportment, wit without offence, Words fully flowing, yet of influence: Thou art that man of men, the man alone, Worthy the public admiration: Who with thine own eyes read’st what we do write, And giv’st our numbers euphony, and weight. Tell’st when a verse springs high, how understood To be, or not born […]...
19. With Penne, Inke, And Paper To A Distressed Friend Here is paper, pen, and inke, That your heart and seale may sinke Into such markes as may expresse A Soule much blest in heavinesse. May your paper seeme as fayre As yourselfe when you appeare: May the Letters which you write Looke like black eye-lids on white. May your penne such fancies bring As […]...
20. Son-Days 1 Bright shadows of true Rest! some shoots of bliss, Heaven once a week; The next world’s gladness prepossest in this; A day to seek; Eternity in time; the steps by which We Climb above all ages; Lamps that light Man through his heap of dark days; and the rich, And full redemption of the […]...
21. We say we say blame the teachers Don’t we send our young to school To be taught the simple rules For decent public-spirited behaviour Do we pay such crushing rates To have our children turned to louts We’re sick of all this fuss We say blame the teachers Or the preachers They’re all the same to us […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. Notes for Canto CXX I have tried to write Paradise Do not move Let the wind speak That is paradise. Let the Gods forgive what I Have made Let those I love try to forgive What I have made....
24. Bring me the sunset in a cup Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps Tell me what time the weaver sleeps Who spun the breadth of blue! Write me how many notes there be In the new Robin’s ecstasy Among astonished boughs How many trips […]...
25. 'Tis true They shut me in the Cold ‘Tis true They shut me in the Cold But then Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’twas Forget it Lord of Them Let not my Witness hinder Them In Heavenly esteem No Paradise could be Conferred Through Their beloved Blame The Harm They did was short And since Myself who bore it […]...
26. Slumber-Song Sleep; and my song shall build about your bed A paradise of dimness. You shall feel The folding of tired wings; and peace will dwell Throned in your silence: and one hour shall hold Summer, and midnight, and immensity Lulled to forgetfulness. For, where you dream, The stately gloom of foliage shall embower Your slumbering […]...
27. Market days Mondays, way before dawn, Before even the first hint of blue in the windows, We’d hear it start, off the road past our place, Over on the highway nearby, In a clatter of market-bound traffic. Riding the rigs packed with fruit and crated live fowl, Or on foot, with cattle hitched to tailgates slowing the […]...
28. The Earth Falls Down If I could blame it all on the weather, The snow like the cadaver’s table, The trees turned into knitting needles, The ground as hard as a frozen haddock, The pond wearing its mustache of frost. If I could blame conditions on that, If I could blame the hearts of strangers Striding muffled down the […]...
29. It knew no Medicine It knew no Medicine It was not Sickness then Nor any need of Surgery And therefore ’twas not Pain It moved away the Cheeks A Dimple at a time And left the Profile plainer And in the place of Bloom It left the little Tint That never had a Name You’ve seen it on a […]...
30. Doom and She I There dwells a mighty pair – Slow, statuesque, intense – Amid the vague Immense: None can their chronicle declare, Nor why they be, nor whence. ,h II Mother of all things made, Matchless in artistry, Unlit with sight is she. – And though her ever well-obeyed Vacant of feeling he. III The Matron mildly […]...
31. Stanzas to a Friend AH! think no more that Life’s delusive joys, Can charm my thoughts from FRIENDSHIP’S dearer claim; Or wound a heart, that scarce a wish employs, For age to censure, or discretion blame. Tir’d of the world, my weary mind recoils From splendid scenes, and transitory joys; From fell Ambition’s false and fruitless toils, From hope […]...
32. The Days that we can spare The Days that we can spare Are those a Function die Or Friend or Nature stranded then In our Economy Our Estimates a Scheme Our Ultimates a Sham We let go all of Time without Arithmetic of him...
33. To His Worthy Friend Doctor Witty Upon His Translation Of The Popular Errors Sit further, and make room for thine own fame, Where just desert enrolles thy honour’d Name The good Interpreter. Some in this task Take of the Cypress vail, but leave a mask, Changing the Latine, but do more obscure That sence in English which was bright and pure. So of Translators they are Authors grown, […]...
34. A Night there lay the Days between A Night there lay the Days between The Day that was Before And Day that was Behind were one And now ’twas Night was here Slow Night that must be watched away As Grains upon a shore Too imperceptible to note Till it be night no more...
35. A Prison gets to be a friend A Prison gets to be a friend Between its Ponderous face And Ours a Kinsmanship express And in its narrow Eyes We come to look with gratitude For the appointed Beam It deal us stated as our food And hungered for the same We learn to know the Planks That answer to Our feet So […]...
36. My friend must be a Bird My friend must be a Bird Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies! Barbs has it, like a Bee! Ah, curious friend! Thou puzzlest me!...
37. If anybody's friend be dead If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive At such and such a time Their costume, of a Sunday, Some manner of the Hair A prank nobody knew but them Lost, in the Sepulchre How warm, they were, on such a day, You almost feel the date […]...
38. These Fevered Days to take them to the Forest These Fevered Days to take them to the Forest Where Waters cool around the mosses crawl And shade is all that devastates the stillness Seems it sometimes this would be all...
39. These are the days when Birds come back These are the days when Birds come back A very few a Bird or two To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old old sophistries of June A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief. Till ranks of seeds […]...
40. I should not dare to leave my friend I should not dare to leave my friend, Because because if he should die While I was gone and I too late Should reach the Heart that wanted me If I should disappoint the eyes That hunted hunted so to see And could not bear to shut until They “noticed” me they noticed me If […]...