We do not play on Graves

Related poetry:

1. Graves I dreamed one man stood against a thousand, One man damned as a wrongheaded fool. One year and another he walked the streets, And a thousand shrugs and hoots Met him in the shoulders and mouths he passed. He died alone. And only the undertaker came to his funeral. Flowers grow over his grave anod […]...
2. We play at Paste We play at Paste Till qualified, for Pearl Then, drop the Paste And deem ourself a fool The Shapes though were similar And our new Hands Learned Gem-Tactics Practicing Sands...
3. At play Play that you are mother dear, And play that papa is your beau; Play that we sit in the corner here, Just as we used to, long ago. Playing so, we lovers two Are just as happy as we can be, And I’ll say “I love you” to you, And you say “I love you” […]...
4. Those Graves In Rome There are places where the eye can starve, But not here. Here, for example, is The Piazza Navona, & here is his narrow room Overlooking the Steps & the crowds of sunbathing Tourists. And here is the Protestant Cemetery Where Keats & Joseph Severn join hands Forever under a little shawl of grass And where […]...
5. Time to play It is a pristine page, clean on the blue screen Where I compose, I don’t expect it to stay that way As words glow from blunt, abused fingers, as insistent Sounds in my head translate into sentence structures, As lips articulate the rhythms and the sounds of the Jumbled lexis as swiftly as I can […]...
6. They All Want to Play Hamlet THEY all want to play Hamlet. They have not exactly seen their fathers killed Nor their mothers in a frame-up to kill, Nor an Ophelia dying with a dust gagging the heart, Not exactly the spinning circles of singing golden spiders, Not exactly this have they got at nor the meaning of flowers-O flowers, flowers […]...
7. The Play I am the only actor. It is difficult for one woman To act out a whole play. The play is my life, My solo act. My running after the hands And never catching up. (The hands are out of sight – That is, offstage.) All I am doing onstage is running, Running to keep up, […]...
8. Come and Play in the Garden Little sister, come away, And let us in the garden play, For it is a pleasant day. On the grass-plat let us sit, Or, if you please, we’ll play a bit, And run about all over it. But the fruit we will not pick, For that would be a naughty trick, And very likely make […]...
9. Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play; Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow: And some are sung, and that was yesterday, And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow. Go forth; and if it be o’er stony way, Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow: And it was […]...
10. Work and Play The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer, A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage, A whiplash swimmer, a fish of the air. But the serpent of cars that crawls through the dust In shimmering exhaust Searching to slake Its fever in ocean Will play and be idle or else it will bust. The swallow […]...
11. Modern Love XIII: I Play for Seasons, Not Eternities ‘I play for Seasons; not Eternities!’ Says Nature, laughing on her way. ‘So must All those whose stake is nothing more than dust!’ And lo, she wins, and of her harmonies She is full sure! Upon her dying rose, She drops a look of fondness, and goes by, Scarce any retrospection in her eye; For […]...
12. She lay as if at play She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away Intending to return But not so soon Her merry Arms, half dropt As if for lull of sport An instant had forgot The Trick to start Her dancing Eyes ajar As if their Owner were Still sparkling through For fun at you Her Morning […]...
13. She died at play She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn Upon a Couch of flowers. Her ghost strolled softly o’er the hill Yesterday, and Today, Her vestments as the silver fleece Her countenance as spray....
14. The Bird did prance the Bee did play The Bird did prance the Bee did play The Sun ran miles away So blind with joy he could not choose Between his Holiday The morn was up the meadows out The Fences all but ran, Republic of Delight, I thought Where each is Citizen From Heavy laden Lands to thee Were seas to cross […]...
15. Modern Love XLV: It Is the Season It is the season of the sweet wild rose, My Lady’s emblem in the heart of me! So golden-crownèd shines she gloriously, And with that softest dream of blood she glows: Mild as an evening heaven round Hesper bright! I pluck the flower, and smell it, and revive The time when in her eyes I […]...
16. It is easy to work when the soul is at play It is easy to work when the soul is at play But when the soul is in pain The hearing him put his playthings up Makes work difficult then It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind But Gimlets among the nerve Mangle daintier terribler Like a Panter in the Glove...
17. I play at Riches to appease I play at Riches to appease The Clamoring for Gold It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold With Want, and Opportunity I could have done a Sin And been Myself that easy Thing An independent Man But often as my lot displays Too hungry to be borne I deem Myself what […]...
18. Two Graves First Ghost To sepulcher my mouldy bones I bough a pile of noble stones, And half a year a sculptor spent To hew my marble monument, The stateliest to rear its head In all this city of the dead. And generations passing through Will gape, and ask: What did he do To earn this tomb […]...
19. Let Us play Yesterday Let Us play Yesterday I the Girl at school You and Eternity the Untold Tale Easing my famine At my Lexicon Logarithm had I for Drink ‘Twas a dry Wine Somewhat different must be Dreams tint the Sleep Cunning Reds of Morning Make the Blind leap Still at the Egg-life Chafing the Shell When you […]...
20. Called Into Play Fall fell: so that’s it for the leaf poetry: Some flurries have whitened the edges of roads And lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: & Turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going to Find something to write about I haven’t already Written away: I will have to stop short, look Down, look […]...
21. Tears Hang on Her Eyes tears hang on her eyes The ones on the left Fearing the stertorus night sky The ones on the right Imbued with thoughts Of her faraway mom...
22. The Princess: A Medley: Our Enemies have Fall'n Our enemies have fall’n, have fall’n: the seed, The little seed they laugh’d at in the dark, Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown a bulk Of spanless girth, that lays on every side A thousand arms and rushes to the Sun. Our enemies have fall’n, have fall’n: they came; The leaves were wet […]...
23. The Little House of Lost Play (Mar Vanwa Tyalieva) We knew that land once, You and I, And once we wandered there In the long days now long gone by, A dark child and a fair. Was it on the paths of firelight thought In winter cold and white, Or in the blue-spun twilit hours Of little early tucked-up beds In drowsy summer night, […]...
24. THE PLAY HOUSE We had a new house And split the decorating. You took the piled rolls of paper, While I stacked the cans of gloss, One to each corner-white-what else? And when we began our slow labour We did not even sigh except in some relief In being there at last. There were no spaces for our […]...
25. While Summer Suns O’er the Gay Prospect Play’d While summer suns o’er the gay prospect play’d, Through Surrey’s verdant scenes, where Epsom spread ‘Mid intermingling elms her flowery meads, And Hascombe’s hill, in towering groves array’d, Rear’d its romantic steep, with mind serene, I journey’d blithe. Full pensive I return’d; For now my breast with hopeless passion burn’d, Wet with hoar mists appear’d […]...
26. Holy Sonnet VI: This Is My Play's Last Scene, Here Heavens Appoint This is my play’s last scene, here heavens appoint My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my race Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace, My span’s last inch, my minute’s latest point, And gluttonous death, will instantly unjoint My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space; But my ever-waking part shall see that […]...
27. While we were fearing it, it came While we were fearing it, it came But came with less of fear Because that fearing it so long Had almost made it fair There is a Fitting a Dismay A Fitting a Despair ‘Tis harder knowing it is Due Than knowing it is Here. They Trying on the Utmost The Morning it is new […]...
28. Rome at the Pyramid of Cestius Near the Graves of Shelley and Keats Who, then, was Cestius, And what is he to me? – Amid thick thoughts and memories multitudinous One thought alone brings he. I can recall no word Of anything he did; For me he is a man who died and was interred To leave a pyramid Whose purpose was exprest Not with its first design, […]...
29. Two Songs From A Play I I saw a staring virgin stand Where holy Dionysus died, And tear the heart out of his side. And lay the heart upon her hand And bear that beating heart away; Of Magnus Annus at the spring, As though God’s death were but a play. Another Troy must rise and set, Another lineage feed […]...
30. Halsted Street Car COME you, cartoonists, Hang on a strap with me here At seven o’clock in the morning On a Halsted street car. Take your pencils And draw these faces. Try with your pencils for these crooked faces, That pig-sticker in one corner his mouth That overall factory girl her loose cheeks. Find for your pencils A […]...
31. Grace My stock lies dead and no increase Doth my dull husbandry improve: O let thy graces without cease Drop from above! If still the sun should hide his face, Thy house would but a dungeon prove, Thy works, night’s captives: O let grace Drop from above! The dew doth ev’ry morning fall; And shall the […]...
32. Ah! Sun-Flower Ah Sun-flower! weary of time. Who countest the steps of the Sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the travellers journey is done. Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire. Where my Sun-flower wishes to go....
33. (As sung by Mr. Charles Charrington in the play of "The Three Wayfarers") (As sung by Mr. Charles Charrington in the play of “The Three Wayfarers”) O MY trade it is the rarest one, Simple shepherds all My trade is a sight to see; For my customers I tie, and take ’em up on high, And waft ’em to a far countree! My tools are but common ones, […]...
34. Noon Walk On The Asylum Lawn The summer sun ray Shifts through a suspicious tree. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow It sucks the air And looks around for me. The grass speaks. I hear green chanting all day. I will fear no evil, fear no evil The blades extend And reach my way. The sky breaks. It […]...
35. Sonnet 128: How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st, Upon that blessèd wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway’st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, […]...
36. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
37. Little Joke Stripping an almond tree in flower The wise apothecary’s skill A single drop of lethal power From perfect sweetness can distill From bitterness in efflorescence, With murderous poisons packed therein; The poet draws pellucid essence Pure as a drop of metheglin....
38. Psalm 109 v.1-5,31 C. M. Love to enemies from the example of Christ. God of my mercy and my praise, Thy glory is my song, Though sinners speak against thy grace With a blaspheming tongue. When in the form of mortal man Thy Son on earth was found, With cruel slanders, false and vain, They compassed him […]...
39. On The Life Of Man What is our life? a play of passion; Our mirth the musick of division: Our mother’s wombes the tyring houses bee Where wee are drest for tyme’s short comedy: The earth’s the stage, heaven the spectator is, Who marketh still whoere doth act amisse: Our graves that hide us from the burning sunne Are but […]...
40. Drink of This Cup Drink of this cup; you’ll find there’s a spell in Its every drop ‘gainst the ills of mortality; Talk of the cordial that sparkled for Helen; Her cup was a fiction, but this is reality. Would you forget the dark world we are in Just taste of the bubble that gleams on the top of […]...