Frequently the wood are pink

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1. Pink Champagne (for Digby Fairweather) Not blues in twelve But there is joy And pink champagne, The maker’s music Trading eights In syncopated synergy From Dixieland to Rock ‘n’ Roll, And here the cornet-master Leads in tones A trumpet cannot blow. The sidemen nod their harmonies, Engrossed; Their music coursing Through an energy of swing; Piano-player’s fingers Dancing round the […]...
2. Pink small and punctual Pink small and punctual Aromatic low Covert in April Candid in May Dear to the Moss Known to the Knoll Next to the Robin In every human Soul Bold little Beauty Bedecked with thee Nature forswears Antiquity...
3. Shame is the shawl of Pink Shame is the shawl of Pink In which we wrap the Soul To keep it from infesting Eyes The elemental Veil Which helpless Nature drops When pushed upon a scene Repugnant to her probity Shame is the tint divine....
4. Goddess In The Wood, The In a flowered dell the Lady Venus stood, Amazed with sorrow. Down the morning one Far golden horn in the gold of trees and sun Rang out; and held; and died. . . . She thought the wood Grew quieter. Wing, and leaf, and pool of light Forgot to dance. Dumb lay the unfalling stream; […]...
5. The Fiddling Wood Gods, what a black, fierce day! The clouds were iron, Wrenched to strange, rugged shapes; the red sun winked Over the rough crest of the hairy wood In angry scorn; the grey road twisted, kinked, Like a sick serpent, seeming to environ The trees with magic. All the wood was still Cracked, crannied pines bent […]...
6. 'In the Pink&#039 So Davies wrote: ‘ This leaves me in the pink. ‘ Then scrawled his name: ‘ Your loving sweetheart Willie ‘ With crosses for a hug. He’d had a drink Of rum and tea; and, though the barn was chilly, For once his blood ram warm; he had pay to spend, Winter was passing; soon […]...
7. Speaking Of Operations I know something wonderful-wonderful; So strange it will quite startle you; So strange and absurd and unusual It seems it can hardly be true! I know something wonderful-wonderful; You’ll hardly believe it can be- You know my appendix? Well, honest, I’ve still got it inside of me!...
8. Always Mine! Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation Of the Seasons and the Sun. Old the Grace, but new the Subjects Old, indeed, the East, Yet upon His Purple Programme Every Dawn, is first....
9. Her Vision In The Wood Dry timber under that rich foliage, At wine-dark midnight in the sacred wood, Too old for a man’s love I stood in rage Imagining men. Imagining that I could A greater with a lesser pang assuage Or but to find if withered vein ran blood, I tore my body that its wine might cover Whatever […]...
10. Bretton Wood It happened by Bretton Wood (although that Wasn’t it’s real name) and I recall a clear, grey dawn And the tall sky fallow with torpid clouds; We went on before to watch how they sundered out Of wretched sleep and patrolled into the gathering, Garrulous sun. In the frail light we sensed but Did not […]...
11. Twelve O'Clock Mother, I do want to leave off my lessons now. I have been at my Book all the morning. You say it is only twelve o’clock. Suppose it isn’t any later; Can’t you ever think it is afternoon when it is only twelve O’clock? I can easily imagine now that the sun has reached the […]...
12. The Fire of Drift-wood DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD. We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o’er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze damp and cold, An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port, The strange, old-fashioned, silent town, The lighthouse, the dismantled fort, The wooden houses, quaint and brown. We sat and […]...
13. How many Flowers fail in Wood How many Flowers fail in Wood Or perish from the Hill Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful How many cast a nameless Pod Upon the nearest Breeze Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight It bear to Other Eyes...
14. The Wood-Cutter The sky is like an envelope, One of those blue official things; And, sealing it, to mock our hope, The moon, a silver wafer, clings. What shall we find when death gives leave To read our sentence or reprieve? I’m holding it down on God’s scrap-pile, up on the fag-end of earth; O’er me a […]...
15. The Klondike Never mind the day we left, or the day the women clung to us; All we need now is the last way they looked at us. Never mind the twelve men there amid the cheering – Twelve men or one man, ‘t will soon be all the same; For this is what we know: we […]...
16. Water makes many Beds Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep Its awful chamber open stands Its Curtains blandly sweep Abhorrent is the Rest In undulating Rooms Whose Amplitude no end invades Whose Axis never comes....
17. 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...
18. From Far, From Eve and Morning From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now for a breath I tarry Nor yet disperse apart Take my hand quick and tell me, What have you in your heart. Speak now, and I will answer; How shall I help […]...
19. 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...
20. In a Wood Pale beech and pine-tree blue, Set in one clay, Bough to bough cannot you Bide out your day? When the rains skim and skip, Why mar sweet comradeship, Blighting with poison-drip Neighborly spray? Heart-halt and spirit-lame, City-opprest, Unto this wood I came As to a nest; Dreaming that sylvan peace Offered the harrowed ease – […]...
21. The Wood BUT two miles more, and then we rest! Well, there is still an hour of day, And long the brightness of the West Will light us on our devious way; Sit then, awhile, here in this wood­ So total is the solitude, We safely may delay. These massive roots afford a seat, Which seems for […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. The Wood-Pile Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day I paused and said, ‘I will turn back from here. No, I will go on farther – and we shall see’. The hard snow held me, save where now and then One foot went through. The view was all in lines Straight up and down of […]...
24. The Ragged Wood O hurry where by water among the trees The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh, When they have but looked upon their images – Would none had ever loved but you and I! Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky, When the sun looked out of his golden hood? […]...
25. A Japanese Wood-Carving High up above the open, welcoming door It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim. Once, long ago, it was a waving tree And knew the sun and shadow through the leaves Of forest trees, in a thick eastern wood. The winter snows had bent its branches down, The spring had swelled its buds […]...
26. Burning Drift-Wood Before my drift-wood fire I sit, And see, with every waif I burn, Old dreams and fancies coloring it, And folly’s unlaid ghosts return. O ships of mine, whose swift keels cleft The enchanted sea on which they sailed, Are these poor fragments only left Of vain desires and hopes that failed? Did I not […]...
27. Wood Rides Who hath not felt the influence that so calms The weary mind in summers sultry hours When wandering thickest woods beneath the arms Of ancient oaks and brushing nameless flowers That verge the little ride who hath not made A minutes waste of time and sat him down Upon a pleasant swell to gaze awhile […]...
28. In Hilly-Wood How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs, Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs, But not an eye can find its way to see. The sunbeams scarce molest me with a smile, So thick the leafy armies gather round; And where they do, the breeze blows […]...
29. There was a man with tongue of wood There was a man with tongue of wood Who essayed to sing, And in truth it was lamentable. But there was one who heard The clip-clapper of this tongue of wood And knew what the man Wished to sing, And with that the singer was content....
30. The Wood Pool Here is a voice that soundeth low and far And lyric­voice of wind among the pines, Where the untroubled, glimmering waters are, And sunlight seldom shines. Elusive shadows linger shyly here, And wood-flowers blow, like pale, sweet spirit-bloom, And white, slim birches whisper, mirrored clear In the pool’s lucent gloom. Here Pan might pipe, or […]...
31. Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs No school of long experience, that the world Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of nature. The calm shade Shall bring a […]...
32. 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!...
33. The Wood Road If I were to walk this way Hand in hand with Grief, I should mark that maple-spray Coming into leaf. I should note how the old burrs Rot upon the ground. Yes, though Grief should know me hers While the world goes round, It could not if truth be said This was lost on me: […]...
34. Who Goes Amid the Green Wood Who goes amid the green wood With springtide all adorning her? Who goes amid the merry green wood To make it merrier? Who passes in the sunlight By ways that know the light footfall? Who passes in the sweet sunlight With mien so virginal? The ways of all the woodland Gleam with a soft and […]...
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. My Piney Wood I have a tiny piney wood; My trees are only fifty, Yet give me shade and solitude For they are thick and thrifty. And every day to me they fling With largess undenying, Fat cones to make my kettle sing And keep my pan a-frying. Go buy yourself a piney wood If you have gold […]...
37. The Wood Nymph A glint of her hair or a flash of her shoulder – That is the most I can boast to have seen, Then all is lost as the shadows enfold her, Forest glades making a screen of their green, Could I cast off all the cares of tomorrow – Could I forget all the fret […]...
38. 321. Song-Craigieburn Wood SWEET closes the ev’ning on Craigieburn Wood, And blythely awaukens the morrow; But the pride o’ the spring in the Craigieburn Wood Can yield to me nothing but sorrow. Chorus.-Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie, And O to be lying beyond thee! O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep That’s laid in the bed beyond […]...
39. An English Wood This valley wood is pledged To the set shape of things, And reasonably hedged: Here are no harpies fledged, No rocs may clap their wings, Nor gryphons wave their stings. Here, poised in quietude, Calm elementals brood On the set shape of things: They fend away alarms From this green wood. Here nothing is that […]...
40. Letter to S. S. from Mametz Wood I never dreamed we’d meet that day In our old haunts down Fricourt way, Plotting such marvellous journeys there For jolly old “Aprиs-la-guerre.” Well, when it’s over, first we’ll meet At Gweithdy Bach, my country seat In Wales, a curious little shop With two rooms and a roof on top, A sort of Morlancourt-ish billet […]...