"Morning" means "Milking" to the Farmer

Related poetry:

1. 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...
2. How much the present moment means How much the present moment means To those who’ve nothing more The Fop the Carp the Atheist Stake an entire store Upon a Moment’s shallow Rim While their commuted Feet The Torrents of Eternity Do all but inundate...
3. Morning The mist has left the greening plain, The dew-drops shine like fairy rain, The coquette rose awakes again Her lovely self adorning. The Wind is hiding in the trees, A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, Until the rose says “Kiss me, please,” ‘Tis morning, ’tis morning. With staff in hand and careless-free, The wanderer fares right […]...
4. Because Of You Because of you, The world is a much nicer place. Because of you, I have faith in the human race. Because of you, I know what it means to love Unconditionally. Because of you, I know what it means to give Unselfishly. Because of you, I believe in magic and mystery And worlds unseen. Because […]...
5. Angels, in the early morning Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping plucking smiling flying Do the Buds to them belong? Angels, when the sun is hottest May be seen the sands among, Stooping plucking sighing flying Parched the flowers they bear along....
6. 86. The Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare, Maggie A GUID New-year I wish thee, Maggie! Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld baggie: Tho’ thou’s howe-backit now, an’ knaggie, I’ve seen the day Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie, Out-owre the lay. Tho’ now thou’s dowie, stiff, an’ crazy, An’ thy auld hide as white’s a daisie, I’ve seen thee dappl’t, sleek […]...
7. Morning in the Burned House In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast, Yet here I am. The spoon which was melted scrapes against The bowl which was melted also. No one else is around. Where have they gone to, brother and sister, Mother and father? Off along the shore, […]...
8. Sonnet XXXV: What Means the Mist What means the mist opaque that veils these eyes; Why does yon threat’ning tempest shroud the day? Why does thy altar, Venus, fade away, And on my breast the dews of horror rise? Phaon is false! be dim ye orient Skies; And let black Erebus succeed your ray; Let clashing thunders roll, and lightning play; […]...
9. Farmer, Dying for Hank and Nancy Seven thousand acres of grass have faded yellow From his cough. These limp days, his anger, Legend forty years from moon to Stevensville, Lives on, just barely, in a Great Falls whore. Cruel times, he cries, cruel winds. His geese roam Unattended in the meadow. The gold last leaves Of cottonwoods […]...
10. 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!...
11. Split the Lark and you'll find the Music Split the Lark and you’ll find the Music Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old. Loose the Flood you shall find it patent Gush after Gush, reserved for you Scarlet Experiment! Sceptic Thomas! Now, do you doubt that your Bird was true?...
12. Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front Love the quick profit, the annual raise, Vacation with pay. Want more Of everything ready-made. Be afraid To know your neighbors and to die. And you will have a window in your head. Not even your future will be a mystery Any more. Your mind will be punched in a card And shut away in […]...
13. SOUND, SWEET SONG SOUND, sweet song, from some far land, Sighing softly close at hand, Now of joy, and now of woe! Stars are wont to glimmer so. Sooner thus will good unfold; Children young and children old Gladly hear thy numbers flow. 1820.* – * In the cases in which the date is marked thus (*), it […]...
14. The Sun just touched the Morning The Sun just touched the Morning The Morning Happy thing Supposed that He had come to dwell And Life would all be Spring! She felt herself supremer A Raised Ethereal Thing! Henceforth for Her What Holiday! Meanwhile Her wheeling King Trailed slow along the Orchards His haughty spangled Hems Leaving a new necessity! The want […]...
15. Françoise And The Fruit Farmer In town to sell his fruit, he saw her- Françoise in her summer slacks- Turning to him, coming back To feel the swelling plums, One held in each soft hand, breast-high, Above them her eyes enclosing him In quietness brushed up to colors, Urgings green, thrustings yellow. A vine-like touch, her promise seemed all profit, […]...
16. One Morning Looking for distinctive stones, I found the dead otter Rotting by the tideline, and carried all day the scent of this savage Valediction. That headlong high sound the oystercatcher makes Came echoing through the rocky cove Where a cormorant was feeding and submarining in the bay And a heron rose off a boulder where he’d […]...
17. The Fury Of Abandonment Someone lives in a cave Eating his toes, I know that much. Someone little lives under a bush Pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against His starving bloated stomac, I know that much. A monkey had his hands cut off For a medical experiment And his claws wept. I know tht much. I know that it […]...
18. Milking Time There’s a drip of honeysuckle in the deep green lane; There’s old Martin jogging homeward on his worn old wain; There are cherry petals falling, and a cuckoo calling, calling, And a score of larks (God bless ’em) . . . but it’s all pain, pain. For you see I am not really there at […]...
19. Morning at the Window THEY are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens, And along the trampled edges of the street I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids Sprouting despondently at area gates. The brown waves of fog toss up to me Twisted faces from the bottom of the street, And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts […]...
20. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
21. The Morning Star IN the black pool of the midnight Lu has slung the morning star, And its foam in rippling silver whitens into day afar Falling on the mountain rampart piled with pearl above our glen, Only you and I, beloved, moving in the fields of men. In the dark tarn of my spirit, love, the morning […]...
22. Cold Morning Through an accidental crack in the curtain I can see the eight o’clock light change from Charcoal to a faint gassy blue, inventing things In the morning that has a thick skin of ice on it As the water tank has, so nothing flows, all is bone, Telling its tale of how hard the night […]...
23. The Farmer's Daughter The Rector met a little lass Who led a heifer by a rope. Said he: “Why don’t you go to Mass? Do you not want to please the Pope?” The village maiden made reply, As on the rope she ceased to pull: “My father said this morning I Must take Paquerette to see the bull.” […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. 213. Song-Up in the Morning Early CAULD blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shill’s I hear the blast- I’m sure it’s winter fairly. Chorus.-Up in the morning’s no for me, Up in the morning early; When a’ the hills are covered wi’ snaw, I’m sure it’s winter fairly. The birds sit chittering […]...
26. A MEAN IN OUR MEANS Though frankincense the deities require, We must not give all to the hallow’d fire. Such be our gifts, and such be our expense, As for ourselves to leave some frankince...
27. Early In The Morning I Hear On Your Piano EARLY in the morning I hear on your piano You (at least, I guess it’s you) proceed to learn to play. Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano While the birds are singing in the morning of the day....
28. Taken from men this morning Taken from men this morning Carried by men today Met by the Gods with banners Who marshalled her away One little maid from playmates One little mind from school There must be guests in Eden All the rooms are full Far as the East from Even Dim as the border star Courtiers quaint, in Kingdoms […]...
29. Look You, I'll Go Pray Look you, I’ll go pray, My shame is crying, My soul is gray and faint, My faith is dying. Look you, I’ll go pray – “Sweet Mary, make me clean, Thou rainstorm of the soul, Thou wine from worlds unseen.”...
30. Northern Farmer: New Style Dosn’t thou ‘ear my ‘erse’s legs, as they canters awaäy? Proputty, proputty, proputty that’s what I ‘ears ’em saäy. Proputty, proputty, proputty Sam, thou’s an ass for thy paaïns: Theer’s moor sense i’ one o’ ‘is legs, nor in all thy braaïns. Woä theer’s a craw to pluck wi’ tha, Sam; yon ‘s parson’s ‘ouse […]...
31. He is alive, this morning He is alive, this morning He is alive and awake Birds are resuming for Him Blossoms dress for His Sake. Bees to their Loaves of Honey Add an Amber Crumb Him to regale Me Only Motion, and am dumb....
32. The Morning after Woe The Morning after Woe ‘Tis frequently the Way Surpasses all that rose before For utter Jubilee As Nature did not care And piled her Blossoms on And further to parade a Joy Her Victim stared upon The Birds declaim their Tunes Pronouncing every word Like Hammers Did they know they fell Like Litanies of Lead […]...
33. Good Morning Midnight Good Morning Midnight I’m coming Home Day got tired of Me How could I of Him? Sunshine was a sweet place I liked to stay But Morn didn’t want me now So Goodnight Day! I can look can’t I When the East is Red? The Hills have a way then That puts the Heart abroad […]...
34. Will there really be a "Morning"? Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? Has it feet like Water lilies? Has it feathers like a Bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? Oh some Scholar! Oh […]...
35. The Inward Morning Packed in my mind lie all the clothes Which outward nature wears, And in its fashion’s hourly change It all things else repairs. In vain I look for change abroad, And can no difference find, Till some new ray of peace uncalled Illumes my inmost mind. What is it gilds the trees and clouds, And […]...
36. Morning Poem Every morning The world Is created. Under the orange Sticks of the sun The heaped Ashes of the night Turn into leaves again And fasten themselves to the high branches – And the ponds appear Like black cloth On which are painted islands Of summer lilies. If it is your nature To be happy You […]...
37. Morning News Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread And fried potatoes, tips green on the branches, Repeats old news: arrogance, ignorance, war. A cinder-block wall shared by two houses Is new rubble. On one side was a kitchen Sink and a cupboard, on the other was A bed, a bookshelf, three framed photographs. […]...
38. By the Pool of the Third Rosses I heard the sighing of the reed In the grey pool in the green land, The sea-wind in the long reeds sighing Between the green hill and the sand. I heard the sighing of the reeds Day after day, night after night; I heard the whirring wild ducks flying, I saw the sea-gull’s wheeling flight. […]...
39. Hymn 120 Faith of things unseen. Heb. 11 Faith is the brightest evidence Of things beyond our sight, Breaks through the clouds of flesh and sense, And dwells in heav’nly light. It sets times past in present view, Brings distant prospects home, Of things a thousand years ago, Or thousand years to come. By faith we know […]...
40. Written On Sunday Morning Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! I to the Woodlands wend, and there In lovely Nature see the GOD OF LOVE. The swelling organ’s peal Wakes not my soul to zeal, Like the wild music of the wind-swept grove. The gorgeous altar and the mystic vest Rouse not such ardor in my breast, […]...