No Bobolink reverse His Singing

Related poetry:

1. The Bobolink is gone The Bobolink is gone The Rowdy of the Meadow And no one swaggers now but me The Presbyterian Birds Can now resume the Meeting He boldly interrupted that overflowing Day When supplicating mercy In a portentous way He swung upon the Decalogue And shouted let us pray...
2. Reverse cannot befall Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior As soon Adversity A Diamond overtake In far Bolivian Ground Misfortune hath no implement Could mar it if it found...
3. The Way to know the Bobolink The Way to know the Bobolink From every other Bird Precisely as the Joy of him Obliged to be inferred. Of impudent Habiliment Attired to defy, Impertinence subordinate At times to Majesty. Of Sentiments seditious Amenable to Law As Heresies of Transport Or Puck’s Apostacy. Extrinsic to Attention Too intimate with Joy He compliments existence […]...
4. Heart, not so heavy as mine Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune A careless snatch a ballad A ditty of the street Yet to my irritated Ear An Anodyne so sweet It was as if a Bobolink Sauntering this way Carolled, and paused, and carolled Then bubbled slow away! […]...
5. THE SINGING SCHOOL The Poetry School, The Poetry Book Society, The Poetry Business: So much poetry about you’d think I’d want to shout, “Hurray, hurray, Every day’s Poetry Day!” but I don’t and you don’t either- You know its flim-flam on the ether, grants for Jack-the-lads Of both sexes, poets who’ve never been seen in a little magazine […]...
6. Our Singing Strength It snowed in spring on earth so dry and warm The flakes could find no landing place to form. Hordes spent themselves to make it wet and cold, And still they failed of any lasting hold. They made no white impression on the black. They disappeared as if earth sent them back. Not till from […]...
7. The singing in god's acre Out yonder in the moonlight, wherein God’s Acre lies, Go angels walking to and fro, singing their lullabies. Their radiant wings are folded, and their eyes are bended low, As they sing among the beds whereon the flowers delight to grow, “Sleep, oh, sleep! The Shepherd guardeth His sheep. Fast speedeth the night away, Soon […]...
8. A Blackbird Singing It seems wrong that out of this bird, Black, bold, a suggestion of dark Places about it, there yet should come Such rich music, as though the notes’ Ore were changed to a rare metal At one touch of that bright bill. You have heard it often, alone at your desk In a green April, […]...
9. THE SINGING I was walking home down a hill near our house on a balmy afternoon Under the blossoms Of the pear trees that go flamboyantly mad here every spring with Their burgeoning forth When a young man turned in from a corner singing no it was more of A cadenced shouting Most of which I couldn’t […]...
10. Despair's advantage is achieved Despair’s advantage is achieved By suffering Despair To be assisted of Reverse One must Reverse have bore The Worthiness of Suffering like The Worthiness of Death Is ascertained by tasting As can no other Mouth Of Savors make us conscious As did ourselves partake Affliction feels impalpable Until Ourselves are struck...
11. I Heard Immanuel Singing (The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart in Heaven.) I heard Immanuel singing Within his own good lands, I saw him bend above his harp. I watched his wandering hands Lost amid the harp-strings; Sweet, sweet I heard him play. His wounds were altogether healed. Old things had […]...
12. A Singing Lesson Far-fetched and dear-bought, as the proverb rehearses, Is good, or was held so, for ladies: but nought In a song can be good if the turn of the verse is Far-fetched and dear-bought. As the turn of a wave should it sound, and the thought Ring smooth, and as light as the spray that disperses […]...
13. These, I, Singing in Spring THESE, I, singing in spring, collect for lovers, (For who but I should understand lovers, and all their sorrow and joy? And who but I should be the poet of comrades?) Collecting, I traverse the garden, the world-but soon I pass the gates, Now along the pond-side-now wading in a little, fearing not the wet, […]...
14. The Valley's Singing Day The sound of the closing outside door was all. You made no sound in the grass with your footfall, As far as you went from the door, which was not far; But had awakened under the morning star The first song-bird that awakened all the rest. He could have slept but a moment more at […]...
15. Such Singing in the Wild Branches It was spring And finally I heard him Among the first leaves – Then I saw him clutching the limb In an island of shade With his red-brown feathers All trim and neat for the new year. First, I stood still And thought of nothing. Then I began to listen. Then I was filled with […]...
16. I shall keep singing! I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes Each with a Robin’s expectation I with my Redbreast And my Rhymes Late when I take my place in summer But I shall bring a fuller tune Vespers are sweeter than Matins Signor Morning only the seed of Noon...
17. "Lethe" in my flower “Lethe” in my flower, Of which they who drink In the fadeless orchards Hear the bobolink! Merely flake or petal As the Eye beholds Jupiter! my father! I perceive the rose!...
18. I would to heaven that I were so much clay I would to heaven that I were so much clay, As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling – Because at least the past were passed away – And for the future – (but I write this reeling, Having got drunk exceedingly today, So that I seem to stand upon the ceiling) I say – […]...
19. The Poor Singing Dame Beneath an old wall, that went round an old Castle, For many a year, with brown ivy o’erspread; A neat little Hovel, its lowly roof raising, Defied the wild winds that howl’d over its shed: The turrets, that frown’d on the poor simple dwelling, Were rock’d to and fro, when the Tempest would roar, And […]...
20. Than Heaven more remote Than Heaven more remote, For Heaven is the root, But these the flitted seed. More flown indeed Than ones that never were, Or those that hide, and are. What madness, by their side, A vision to provide Of future days They cannot praise. My soul, to find them, come, They cannot call, they’re dumb, Nor […]...
21. I keep my pledge I keep my pledge. I was not called Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose. I plight again, By every sainted Bee By Daisy called from hillside By Bobolink from lane. Blossom and I Her oath, and mine Will surely come again....
22. HUMAN FEELINGS AH, ye gods! ye great immortals In the spacious heavens above us! Would ye on this earth but give us Steadfast minds and dauntless courage We, oh kindly ones, would leave you All your spacious heavens above us! 1815.*...
23. The Village Garden To E. M. S. Here, where your garden fenced about and still is, Here, where the unmoved summer air is sweet With mixed delight of lavender and lilies, Dreaming I linger in the noontide heat. Of many summers are the trees recorders, The turf a carpet many summers wove; Old-fashioned blossoms cluster in the borders, […]...
24. "Nature" is what we see “Nature” is what we see The Hill the Afternoon Squirrel Eclipse the Bumble bee Nay Nature is Heaven Nature is what we hear The Bobolink the Sea Thunder the Cricket Nay Nature is Harmony Nature is what we know Yet have no art to say So impotent Our Wisdom is To her Simplicity....
25. The singing dog when the dog began to sing The people ran amok A man shinned up a flagpole A woman chewed her sock Children danced the drainpipe A policeman robbed a bank The mayor and all the councillors Fired doughnuts from a tank The queen embraced the dustman The clergy showed their knees Librarians in their thousands […]...
26. Singing Of speckled eggs the birdie sings And nests among the trees; The sailor sings of ropes and things In ships upon the seas. The children sing in far Japan, The children sing in Spain; The organ with the organ man Is singing in the rain....
27. She is Overheard Singing OH, Prue she has a patient man, And Joan a gentle lover, And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,­ But my true love’s a rover! Mig, her man’s as good as cheese And honest as a briar, Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of,­ But my dear lad’s a liar! Oh, Sue and Prue and […]...
28. Talking (and Singing) of the Nordic Man I Behold, my child, the Nordic man, And be as like him, as you can; His legs are long, his mind is slow, His hair is lank and made of tow. II And here we have the Alpine Race: Oh! What a broad and foolish face! His skin is of a dirty yellow. He is […]...
29. I Hear America Singing I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics-each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in […]...
30. Some keep the Sabbath going to Church Some keep the Sabbath going to Church I keep it, staying at Home With a Bobolink for a Chorister And an Orchard, for a Dome Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice I just wear my Wings And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church, Our little Sexton sings. God preaches, a noted Clergyman And the […]...
31. The Singing Silences WHILE the yellow constellations shine with pale and tender glory, In the lilac-scented stillness let us listen to earth’s story. All the flowers like moths a-flutter glimmer rich with dusky hues; Everywhere around us seem to fall from nowhere the sweet dews. Through the drowsy lull, the murmur, stir of leaf and sleepy hum, We […]...
32. Singing Nigger YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock walloper, Those grappling hooks, those wheelbarrow handlers, The dome and the wings of you, nigger, The red roof and the door of you, I know where your songs came from. I know why God listens to your, “Walk All Over God’s Heaven.” I heard you shooting craps, “My baby’s […]...
33. The Singing Girl (For the Rev. Edward F. Garesche, S. J.) There was a little maiden In blue and silver drest, She sang to God in Heaven And God within her breast. It flooded me with pleasure, It pierced me like a sword, When this young maiden sang: “My soul Doth magnify the Lord.” The stars sing all […]...
34. THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT Loud he sang the psalm of David! He, a Negro and enslaved, Sang of Israel’s victory, Sang of Zion, bright and free. In that hour, when night is calmest, Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist, In a voice so sweet and clear That I could not choose but hear, Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, Such […]...
35. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: And let there glide by many a pearly car Pink robes, and wavy hair, and […]...
36. The Singing-Woman From The Wood's Edge What should I be but a prophet and a liar, Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar? Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water, What should I be but the fiend’s god-daughter? And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog, That was got beneath a furze-bush and […]...
37. 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...
38. The Gentian weaves her fringes The Gentian weaves her fringes The Maple’s loom is red My departing blossoms Obviate parade. A brief, but patient illness An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the angels are It was a short procession, The Bobolink was there An aged Bee addressed us And then we knelt in prayer We […]...
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. Careers Father is quite the greatest poet That ever lived anywhere. You say you’re going to write great music – I chose that first: it’s unfair. Besides, now I can’t be the greatest painter and do Christ and angels, or lovely pears and apples and grapes on a green dish, or storms at sea, or anything […]...