A train went through a burial gate

Related poetry:

1. I thought the Train would never come I thought the Train would never come How slow the whistle sang I don’t believe a peevish Bird So whimpered for the Spring I taught my Heart a hundred times Precisely what to say Provoking Lover, when you came Its Treatise flew away To hide my strategy too late To wiser be too soon For […]...
2. Train Train. Distant Train. Praise the glorious distance of Train. Dogs bark, reply to the mournful echo of Train’s whistle. Train looks back, keeps moving. Train carries its boxcars of secrets further and further away (and even further still) from those who profess to love Train, but who do not run after him. Eyes brimmed with […]...
3. Like The Train's Beat Like the train’s beat Swift language flutters the lips Of the Polish airgirl in the corner seat, The swinging and narrowing sun Lights her eyelashes, shapes Her sharp vivacity of bone. Hair, wild and controlled, runs back: And gestures like these English oaks Flash past the windows of her foreign talk. The train runs on […]...
4. The Buried Train Tell me about the train that people say got buried By the avalanche was it snow? It was In Colorado, and no one saw it happen. There was smoke from the engine curling up Lightly through fir tops, and the engine sounds. There were all those people reading some From Thoreau, some from Henry Ward […]...
5. Song of a Train A monster taught To come to hand Amain, As swift as thought Across the land The train. The song it sings Has an iron sound; Its iron wings Like wheels go round. Crash under bridges, Flash over ridges, And vault the downs; The road is straight Nor stile, nor gate; For milestones towns! Voluminous, vanishing, […]...
6. Rondeau at the Train Stop It bothers me: the genital smell of the bay Drifting toward me on the T stop, the train Circling the city like a dingy, year-round Christmas display. The Puritans were right! Sin Is everywhere in Massachusetts, hell-bound In the population. it bothers me Because it’s summer now and sticky – no rain To cool things […]...
7. The shut-eye train Come, my little one, with me! There are wondrous sights to see As the evening shadows fall; In your pretty cap and gown, Don’t detain The Shut-Eye train – “Ting-a-ling!” the bell it goeth, “Toot-toot!” the whistle bloweth, And we hear the warning call: “All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!” Over hill and over plain Soon […]...
8. 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!...
9. On The Night Train Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by? Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry; Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky? Have you heard the still voice calling – yet so warm, and yet so cold: “I’m the Mother-Bush […]...
10. Saving a Train ‘Twas in the year of 1869, and on the 19th of November, Which the people in Southern Germany will long remember, The great rain-storm which for twenty hours did pour down, That the rivers were overflowed and petty streams all around. The rain fell in such torrents as had never been seen before, That it […]...
11. Burial of the Minnisink On sunny slope and beechen swell, The shadowed light of evening fell; And, where the maple’s leaf was brown, With soft and silent lapse came down, The glory, that the wood receives, At sunset, in its golden leaves. Far upward in the mellow light Rose the blue hills. One cloud of white, Around a far […]...
12. In the Train AS we rush, as we rush in the Train, The trees and the houses go wheeling back, But the starry heavens above the plain Come flying on our track. All the beautiful stars of the sky, The silver doves of the forest of Night, Over the dull earth swarm and fly, Companions of our flight. […]...
13. The Burial of Mr. Gladstone Alas! the people now do sigh and moan For the loss of Wm. Ewart Gladstone, Who was a very great politician and a moral man, And to gainsay it there’s few people can. ‘Twas in the year of 1898, and on the 19th of May, When his soul took its flight for ever and aye, […]...
14. One Train May Hide Another (sign at a railroad crossing in Kenya) In a poem, one line may hide another line, As at a crossing, one train may hide another train. That is, if you are waiting to cross The tracks, wait to do it for one moment at Least after the first train is gone. And so when you […]...
15. A Ballad of Burial (“Saint Proxed’s ever was the Church for peace”) If down here I chance to die, Solemnly I beg you take All that is left of “I” To the Hills for old sake’s sake, Pack me very thoroughly In the ice that used to slake Pegs I drank when I was dry This observe for old […]...
16. The Bombay Train Song He hangs on dangling handholds As the train sways and careens Endless nondescript buildings unfold Their secrets as the tired warrior returns. The day is over the night falls Thickly through the barricaded windows The man’s sleepy head lolls On his shoulder in a dream disturbed. The days are a hard white collar brawl The […]...
17. The wanderer Upon a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Ah, who can say Whether there dropped by some too careless […]...
18. BURIAL To the grave one day from a house they bore A maiden; To the window the citizens went to explore; In splendour they lived, and with wealth as of yore Their banquets were laden. Then thought they: “The maid to the tomb is now borne; We too from our dwellings ere long must be torn, […]...
19. The Iron Gate WHERE is this patriarch you are kindly greeting? Not unfamiliar to my ear his name, Nor yet unknown to many a joyous meeting In days long vanished, is he still the same, Or changed by years, forgotten and forgetting, Dull-eared, dim-sighted, slow of speech and thought, Still o’er the sad, degenerate present fretting, Where all […]...
20. The Choirmaster's Burial He often would ask us That, when he died, After playing so many To their last rest, If out of us any Should here abide, And it would not task us, We would with our lutes Play over him By his grave-brim The psalm he liked best- The one whose sense suits “Mount Ephraim”- And […]...
21. The Burial 1904(C. F. Rhodes, buried in the Matoppos, April 10, 1902) When that great Kings return to clay, Or Emperors in their pride, Grief of a day shall fill a day, Because its creature died. But we we reck on not with those Whom the mere Fates ordain, This Power that wrought on us and goes […]...
22. The Woman At The Gate “Where is your little boy to-day?” I asked her at the gate. “I used to see him at his play, And often I would wait: He was so beautiful, so bright, I watched him with delight. “He had a tiny motor-car And it was painted red; He wound it up; it ran so far, So […]...
23. The Old Front Gate W’en daih’s chillun in de house, Dey keep on a-gittin’ tall; But de folks don’ seem to see Dat dey’s growin’ up at all, ‘Twell dey fin’ out some fine day Dat de gals has ‘menced to grow, W’en dey notice as dey pass Dat de front gate’s saggin’ low. W’en de hinges creak an’ […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. 285. Song-I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen I GAED a waefu’ gate yestreen, A gate, I fear, I’ll dearly rue; I gat my death frae twa sweet een, Twa lovely een o’bonie blue. ‘Twas not her golden ringlets bright, Her lips like roses wat wi’ dew, Her heaving bosom, lily-white- It was her een sae bonie blue. She talk’d, she smil’d, my […]...
26. Train Ride After rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fan Of railway landscape sidled onthe pivot Of a larger arc into the green of evening; I remembered that noon I saw a gradual bud Still white; though dead in its warm bloom; Always the enemy is the foe at home. And I wondered what surgery could recover Our […]...
27. Home Burial He saw her from the bottom of the stairs Before she saw him. She was starting down, Looking back over her shoulder at some fear. She took a doubtful step and then undid it To raise herself and look again. He spoke Advancing toward her: ‘What is it you see From up there always for […]...
28. Train Ride For Horace Gregory After rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fan Of railway landscape sidled onthe pivot Of a larger arc into the green of evening; I remembered that noon I saw a gradual bud Still white; though dead in its warm bloom; Always the enemy is the foe at home. And I wondered what surgery […]...
29. What Then? His chosen comrades thought at school He must grow a famous man; He thought the same and lived by rule, All his twenties crammed with toil; ‘What then?’ sang Plato’s ghost. ‘What then?’ Everything he wrote was read, After certain years he won Sufficient money for his need, Friends that have been friends indeed; ‘What […]...
30. He found my Being set it up He found my Being set it up Adjusted it to place Then carved his name upon it And bade it to the East Be faithful in his absence And he would come again With Equipage of Amber That time to take it Home...
31. Burial Mine is a body that should die at sea! And have for a grave, instead of a grave Six feet deep and the length of me, All the water that is under the wave! And terrible fishes to seize my flesh, Such as a living man might fear, And eat me while I am firm […]...
32. All these my banners be All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May It rises train by train Then sleeps in state again My chancel all the plain Today. To lose if one can find again To miss if one shall meet The Burglar cannot rob then The Broker cannot cheat. So build the hillocks gaily Thou […]...
33. The Fear Of Burial In the empty field, in the morning, The body waits to be claimed. The spirit sits beside it, on a small rock Nothing comes to give it form again. Think of the body’s loneliness. At night pacing the sheared field, Its shadow buckled tightly around. Such a long journey. And already the remote, trembling lights […]...
34. Lonely Burial There were not many at that lonely place, Where two scourged hills met in a little plain. The wind cried loud in gusts, then low again. Three pines strained darkly, runners in a race Unseen by any. Toward the further woods A dim harsh noise of voices rose and ceased. We were most silent in […]...
35. The Burial of the Reverend Gilfillan On the Gilfillan burial day, In the Hill o’ Balgay, It was a most solemn sight to see, Not fewer than thirty thousand people assembled in Dundee, All watching the funeral procession of Gilfillan that day, That death had suddenly taken away, And was going to be buried in the Hill o’ Balgay. There were […]...
36. Death and Burial of Lord Tennyson Alas! England now mourns for her poet that’s gone- The late and the good Lord Tennyson. I hope his soul has fled to heaven above, Where there is everlasting joy and love. He was a man that didn’t care for company, Because company interfered with his study, And confused the bright ideas in his brain, […]...
37. All but Death, can be Adjusted All but Death, can be Adjusted Dynasties repaired Systems settled in their Sockets Citadels dissolved Wastes of Lives resown with Colors By Succeeding Springs Death unto itself Exception Is exempt from Change...
38. 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 […]...
39. Taking up the fair Ideal Taking up the fair Ideal, Just to cast her down When a fracture we discover Or a splintered Crown Makes the Heavens portable And the Gods a lie Doubtless “Adam” scowled at Eden For his perjury! Cherishing our pool Ideal Till in purer dress We behold her glorified Comforts search like this Till the broken […]...
40. Memorial To D. C (Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is, With hands that wrote you little notes I write you little elegies!...