I know where Wells grow Droughtless Wells

Related poetry:

1. Personal Helicon As a child, they could not keep me from wells And old pumps with buckets and windlasses. I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss. One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top. I savoured the rich crash when a bucket Plummeted down at the end […]...
2. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
3. To an Ungentle Critic The great sun sinks behind the town Through a red mist of Volnay wine…. But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the town? You’ll only skip the page, you’ll look For newer pictures in this book; You’ve read of sunsets rich as mine. A fresh wind fills the evening air With […]...
4. Tunbridge Wells At five this morn, when Phoebus raised his head From Thetis’ lap, I raised myself from bed, And mounting steed, I trotted to the waters The rendesvous of fools, buffoons, and praters, Cuckolds, whores, citizens, their wives and daughters. My squeamish stomach I with wine had bribed To undertake the dose that was prescribed; But […]...
5. The Man Who Knew The Dreamer visioned Life as it might be, And from his dream forthright a picture grew, A painting all the people thronged to see, And joyed therein till came the Man Who Knew, Saying: “‘Tis bad! Why do ye gape, ye fools! He painteth not according to the schools.” The Dreamer probed Life’s mystery of […]...
6. Where Giant Mushrooms Grow! In Nevada there is a field where giant mushrooms grow One mile high and two miles wide, they say on the show That’s where they test how to vaporize people and flesh By splitting and fusing atoms and start the world afresh. A new era, a new definition, with the nuclear shield Dawned with huge […]...
7. We grow accustomed to the Dark We grow accustomed to the Dark When light is put away As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp To witness her Goodbye A Moment We uncertain step For newness of the night Then fit our Vision to the Dark And meet the Road erect And so of larger Darkness Those Evenings of the Brain When […]...
8. You cannot make Remembrance grow You cannot make Remembrance grow When it has lost its Root The tightening the Soil around And setting it upright Deceives perhaps the Universe But not retrieves the Plant Real Memory, like Cedar Feet Is shod with Adamant Nor can you cut Remembrance down When it shall once have grown Its Iron Buds will sprout […]...
9. The Mountains grow unnoticed The Mountains grow unnoticed Their Purple figures rise Without attempt Exhaustion Assistance or Applause In Their Eternal Faces The Sun with just delight Looks long and last and golden For fellowship at night...
10. They talk as slow as Legends grow They talk as slow as Legends grow No mushroom is their mind But foliage of sterility Too stolid for the wind They laugh as wise as Plots of Wit Predestined to unfold The point with bland prevision Portentously untold....
11. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
12. The Sun-Dial at Wells College The shadow by my finger cast Divides the future from the past: Before it, sleeps the unborn hour In darkness, and beyond thy power: Behind its unreturning line, The vanished hour, no longer thine: One hour alone is in thy hands, The NOW on which the shadow stands....
13. Fragment at Tunbridge-Wells FOR He, that made, must new create us, Ere Seneca, or Epictetus, With all their serious Admonitions, Can, for the Spleen, prove good Physicians. The Heart’s unruly Palpitation Will not be laid by a Quotation; Nor will the Spirits move the lighter For the most celebrated Writer. Sweats, Swoonings, and convulsive Motions Will not be […]...
14. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
15. TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
16. Dream Song 6: A Capital at Wells During the father’s walking—how he look Down by now in soft boards, Henry, pass And what he feel or no, who know? — As during hís broad father’s, all the breaks & ill-lucks of a thriving pioneer Back to the flying boy in mountain air, Vermont’s child to go out, and while Keats sweat’ For […]...
17. The Bohemian Up in my garret bleak and bare I tilted back on my broken chair, And my three old pals were with me there, Hunger and Thirst and Cold; Hunger scowled at his scurvy mate: Cold cowered down by the hollow grate, And I hated them with a deadly hate As old as life is old. […]...
18. Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
19. "Shouting" for a Camel It was over at Coolgardie that a mining speculator, Who was going down the township just to make a bit o’ chink, Went off to hire a camel from a camel propagator, And the Afghan said he’d lend it if he’d stand the beast a drink. Yes, the only price he asked him was to […]...
20. Alfred Moir Why was I not devoured by self-contempt, And rotted down by indifference And impotent revolt like Indignation Jones? Why, with all of my errant steps Did I miss the fate of Willard Fluke? And why, though I stood at Burchard’s bar, As a sort of decoy for the house to the boys To buy the […]...
21. When I read the Book WHEN I read the book, the biography famous, And is this, then, (said I,) what the author calls a man’s life? And so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life? (As if any man really knew aught of my life; Why, even I myself, I often think, know little or […]...
22. Butter Butter, like love, Seems common enough Yet has so many imitators. I held a brick of it, heavy and cool, And glimpsed what seemed like skin Beneath a corner of its wrap; The decolletage revealed A most attractive fat! And most refined. Not milk, not cream, Not even creme de la creme. It was a […]...
23. The Missal Makers To visit the Escurial We took a motor bus, And there a guide mercurial Took charge of us. He showed us through room after room, And talked hour after hour, Of place, crypt and royal tomb, Of pomp and power. But in bewilderment of grace What pleased me most of all Were ancient missals proud […]...
24. Green Grow The Rashes Green grow the rashes, O! Green grow the rashes, O! The sweetest hours that e’er I spend, Are spent amang the lasses, O! There’s nought but care on every han’ In every hour that passes, O; What signifies the life o’ man, An ’twere na for the lasses, O? The warl’ly race may riches chase, […]...
25. Have You Seen But A Bright Lily Grow Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of snow Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of beaver, Or swan’s down ever? Or have smelt o’ the bud o’ the brier, Or the nard in the fire? Or […]...
26. 32. Song-Green Grow the Rashes Chor.-Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e’er I spend, Are spent amang the lasses, O. THERE’S nought but care on ev’ry han’, In ev’ry hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o’ man, An’ ’twere na for the lasses, O. Green grow, &c. The war’ly race […]...
27. Father Death Blues (Don't Grow Old, Part V) Hey Father Death, I’m flying home Hey poor man, you’re all alone Hey old daddy, I know where I’m going Father Death, Don’t cry any more Mama’s there, underneath the floor Brother Death, please mind the store Old Aunty Death Don’t hide your bones Old Uncle Death I hear your groans O Sister Death how […]...
28. An Old-Fashioned Garden Strange, is it not? She was making her garden, Planting the old-fashioned flowers that day- Bleeding-hearts tender and bachelors-buttons- Spreading the seeds in the old-fashioned way. Just in the old fashioned way, too, our quarrel Grew until, angrily, she set me free- Planting, indeed, bleeding hearts for the two of us,- Ordaining bachelor’s buttons for […]...
29. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. I'm the little "Heart's Ease"! I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away? If the Coward Bumble Bee In his chimney corner stay, I, must resoluter be! Who’ll apologize for me? Dear, Old fashioned, little flower! Eden is old fashioned, too! Birds are antiquated fellows! Heaven does not […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. I Go Back To The House For A Book I turn around on the gravel And go back to the house for a book, Something to read at the doctor’s office, And while I am inside, running the finger Of inquisition along a shelf, Another me that did not bother To go back to the house for a book Heads out on his own, […]...
34. The Flower Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed. To and fro they went Thro’ my garden bower, And muttering discontent Cursed me and my flower. Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o’er the wall […]...
35. Death sets a Thing significant Death sets a Thing significant The Eye had hurried by Except a perished Creature Entreat us tenderly To ponder little Workmanships In Crayon, or in Wool, With “This was last Her fingers did” Industrious until The Thimble weighed too heavy The stitches stopped by themselves And then ’twas put among the Dust Upon the Closet […]...
36. 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...
37. So Far and So Far, and on Toward the End SO far, and so far, and on toward the end, Singing what is sung in this book, from the irresistible impulses of me; But whether I continue beyond this book, to maturity, Whether I shall dart forth the true rays, the ones that wait unfired, (Did you think the sun was shining its brightest? No-it […]...
38. I met a seer I met a seer. He held in his hands The book of wisdom. “Sir,” I addressed him, “Let me read.” “Child ” he began. “Sir,” I said, “Think not that I am a child, For already I know much Of that which you hold. Aye, much.” He smiled. Then he opened the book And held […]...
39. 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...
40. 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 […]...