The Months have ends the Years a knot

Related poetry:

1. Home After Three Months Away Gone now the baby’s nurse, A lioness who ruled the roost And made the Mother cry. She used to tie Gobbets of porkrind to bowknots of gauze- Three months they hung like soggy toast On our eight foot magnolia tree, And helped the English sparrows Weather a Boston winter. Three months, three months! Is Richard […]...
2. My Heart and I I. ENOUGH! we’re tired, my heart and I. We sit beside the headstone thus, And wish that name were carved for us. The moss reprints more tenderly The hard types of the mason’s knife, As heaven’s sweet life renews earth’s life With which we’re tired, my heart and I. II. You see we’re tired, my […]...
3. The During Months Like summer in some countries and like rain In mine, for nuns like God, for drunks like beer, Like food for chefs, for invalids like pain, You’ve occupied a large part of the year. The during months to those before and since Would make a ratio of ten to two, Counting the ones spent trying […]...
4. Where the Sidewalk Ends There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark […]...
5. Twelve Months After Hullo! here’s my platoon, the lot I had last year. ‘The war’ll be over soon.’ ‘What ‘opes?’ ‘No bloody fear!’ Then, ‘Number Seven, ‘shun! All present and correct.’ They’re standing in the sun, impassive and erect. Young Gibson with his grin; and Morgan, tired and white; Jordan, who’s out to win a D. C. M. […]...
6. Dream Song 119: Fresh-shaven, past months & a picture in New York Fresh-shaven, past months & a picture in New York Of Beard Two, I did have Three took off. Well. . Shadow & act, shadow & act, Better get white or you’ get whacked, Or keep so-called black & raise new hell. I’ve had enough of this dying. You’ve done me a dozen goodnesses; get well. […]...
7. Twelve Years The line That remained, that Became true: . . . your House in Paris become The alterpiece of your hands. Breathed through thrice, Shone through thrice. ………………. It’s turning dumb, turning deaf Behind our eyes. I see the poison flower In all manner of words and shapes. Go. Come. Love blots out its name: to […]...
8. I could not prove the Years had feet I could not prove the Years had feet Yet confident they run Am I, from symptoms that are past And Series that are done I find my feet have further Goals I smile upon the Aims That felt so ample Yesterday Today’s have vaster claims I do not doubt the self I was Was competent […]...
9. Come Sleep, O Sleep! The Certain Knot Of Peace Come, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof shield me from out the press Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw! O make in me […]...
10. To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then Forty LORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band That wear the fair Miss Mary’s fetters, Were summoned by her high command To show their passions by their letters. My pen amongst the rest I took, Lest those bright eyes, that cannot read, Should dart their kindling fire, and look The power they have to be obey’d. […]...
11. If you were coming in the Fall If you were coming in the Fall, I’d brush the Summer by With half a smile, and half a spurn, As Housewives do, a Fly. If I could see you in a year, I’d wind the months in balls And put them each in separate Drawers, For fear the numbers fuse If only Centuries, delayed, […]...
12. When Day Is Done If the day is done, If birds sing no more, If the wind has flagged tired, Then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me, Even as thou hast wrapt the earth with the coverlet of sleep And tenderly closed the petals of the drooping lotus at dusk....
13. Europe, the 72d and 73d years of These States 1 SUDDENLY, out of its stale and drowsy lair, the lair of slaves, Like lightning it le’pt forth, half startled at itself, Its feet upon the ashes and the rags-its hands tight to the throats of kings. O hope and faith! O aching close of exiled patriots’ lives! O many a sicken’d heart! Turn back […]...
14. Two Months June No hope, no change! The clouds have shut us in, And through the cloud the sullen Sun strikes down Full on the bosom of the tortured Town, Till Night falls heavy as remembered sin That will not suffer sleep or thought of ease, And, hour on hour, the dry-eyed Moon in spite Glares through […]...
15. Covering Two Years This nothingness that feeds upon itself: Pencils that turn to water in the hand, Parts of a sentence, hanging in the air, Thoughts breaking in the mind like glass, Blank sheets of paper that reflect the world Whitened the world that I was silenced by. There were two years of that. Slowly, Whatever splits, dissevers, […]...
16. Book Ends I Baked the day she suddenly dropped dead We chew it slowly that last apple pie. Shocked into sleeplessness you’re scared of bed. We never could talk much, and now don’t try. You’re like book ends, the pair of you, she’d say, Hog that grate, say nothing, sit, sleep, stare… The ‘scholar’ me, you, worn […]...
17. The Mysterious Cat A chant for a children’s pantomime dance, suggested by a picture painted by George Mather Richards. I saw a proud, mysterious cat, I saw a proud, mysterious cat Too proud to catch a mouse or rat- Mew, mew, mew. But catnip she would eat, and purr, But catnip she would eat, and purr. And goldfish […]...
18. Stout Marches Lead To Certain Ends STOUT marches lead to certain ends, We seek no Holy Grail, my friends – That dawn should find us every day Some fraction farther on our way. The dumb lands sleep from east to west, They stretch and turn and take their rest. The cock has crown in the steading-yard, But priest and people slumber […]...
19. Sicily, December 1908 O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea, Whose bluest billows kiss thy curving bays, Whose amorous light enfolds thee in warm rays That fill with fruit each dark-leaved orange-tree, What hidden hatred hath the Earth for thee? Behold, again, in these dark, dreadful days, She trembles with her wrath, and swiftly lays Thy beauty […]...
20. Sixteen Months ON the lips of the child Janet float changing dreams. It is a thin spiral of blue smoke, A morning campfire at a mountain lake. On the lips of the child Janet, Wisps of haze on ten miles of corn, Young light blue calls to young light gold of morning....
21. To A Ten-Months' Child Late arrival, no One would think of blaming you For hesitating so. Who, setting his hand to knock At a door so strange as this one, Might not draw back?...
22. First Day at School A millionbillionwillion miles from home Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?) Why are they all so big, other children? So noisy? So much at home they Must have been born in uniform Lived all their lives in playgrounds Spent the years inventing games That don’t let me in. Games That are rough, […]...
23. Is it dead Find it Is it dead Find it Out of sound Out of sight “Happy”? Which is wiser You, or the Wind? “Conscious”? Won’t you ask that Of the low Ground? “Homesick”? Many met it Even through them This Cannot testify Themself as dumb...
24. At Eighty Years As nothingness draws near How I can see Inexorably clear My vanity. My sum of worthiness Always so small, Dwindles from less to less To none at all. As grisly destiny Claims me at last, How grievous seem to me Sins of my past! How keen a conscience edge Can come to be! How pitiless […]...
25. THE SUCCESSION OF THE FOUR SWEET MONTHS First, April, she with mellow showers Opens the way for early flowers; Then after her comes smiling May, In a more rich and sweet array; Next enters June, and brings us more Gems than those two that went before; Then, lastly, July comes, and she More wealth brings in than all those three....
26. The Sunset Years of Samuel Shy Master I may be, But not of my fate. Now come the kisses, too many too late. Tell me, O Parcae, For fain would I know, Where were these kisses three decades ago? Girls there were plenty, Mint julep girls, beer girls, Gay younger married and headstrong career girls, The girls of my friends And […]...
27. Hi-spy Strange that the city thoroughfare, Noisy and bustling all the day, Should with the night renounce its care, And lend itself to children’s play! Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys, And have been so since Abel’s birth, And shall be so till dolls and toys Are with the children swept from earth. The […]...
28. Of nearness to her sundered Things Of nearness to her sundered Things The Soul has special times When Dimness looks the Oddity Distinctness easy seems The Shapes we buried, dwell about, Familiar, in the Rooms Untarnished by the Sepulchre, The Mouldering Playmate comes In just the Jacket that he wore Long buttoned in the Mold Since we old mornings, Children played […]...
29. Sonnet L How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel’s end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say ‘Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!’ The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by […]...
30. Sonnet 50: How heavy do I journey on the way How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel’s end, Doth teach that case and that repose to say, “Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!” The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by […]...
31. The Pile of Years is not so high The Pile of Years is not so high As when you came before But it is rising every Day From recollection’s Floor And while by standing on my Heart I still can reach the top Efface the mountain with your face And catch me ere I drop...
32. I Years had been from Home I Years had been from Home And now before the Door I dared not enter, lest a Face I never saw before Stare solid into mine And ask my Business there “My Business but a Life I left Was such remaining there?” I leaned upon the Awe I lingered with Before The Second like an […]...
33. I had been hungry, all the Years I had been hungry, all the Years My Noon had Come to dine I trembling drew the Table near And touched the Curious Wine ‘Twas this on Tables I had seen When turning, hungry, Home I looked in Windows, for the Wealth I could not hope for Mine I did not know the ample Bread […]...
34. In Ebon Box, when years have flown In Ebon Box, when years have flown To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there! To hold a letter to the light Grown Tawny now, with time To con the faded syllables That quickened us like Wine! Perhaps a Flower’s shrivelled check Among its stores to find Plucked far away, some […]...
35. Long Years apart can make no Long Years apart can make no Breach a second cannot fill The absence of the Witch does not Invalidate the spell The embers of a Thousand Years Uncovered by the Hand That fondled them when they were Fire Will stir and understand...
36. There is a Zone whose even Years There is a Zone whose even Years No Solstice interrupt Whose Sun constructs perpetual Noon Whose perfect Seasons wait Whose Summer set in Summer, till The Centuries of June And Centuries of August cease And Consciousness is Noon....
37. They shut me up in Prose They shut me up in Prose As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet Because they liked me “still” Still! Could themself have peeped And seen my Brain go round They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason in the Pound Himself has but to will And easy as a […]...
38. The harm of Years is on him The harm of Years is on him The infamy of Time Depose him like a Fashion And give Dominion room. Forget his Morning Forces The Glory of Decay Is a minuter Pageant Than least Vitality....
39. After a hundred years After a hundred years Nobody knows the Place Agony that enacted there Motionless as Peace Weeds triumphant ranged Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone Orthography Of the Elder Dead Winds of Summer Fields Recollect the way Instinct picking up the Key Dropped by memory...
40. The Verdicts Not in the thick of the fight, Not in the press of the odds, Do the heroes come to their height, Or we know the demi-gods. That stands over till peace. We can only perceive Men returned from the seas, Very grateful for leave. They grant us sudden days Snatched from their business of war; […]...