Who is it seeks my Pillow Nights

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1. One crown that no one seeks One crown that no one seeks And yet the highest head Its isolation coveted Its stigma deified While Pontius Pilate lives In whatsoever hell That coronation pierces him He recollects it well....
2. On that specific Pillow On that specific Pillow Our projects flit away The Night’s tremendous Morrow And whether sleep will stay Or usher us a stranger To situations new The effort to comprise it Is all the soul can do....
3. Wild Nights Wild Nights! Wild Nights Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the Winds To a Heart in port Done with the Compass Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor Tonight In Thee!...
4. The sunshine seeks my little room The sunshine seeks my little room To tell me Paris streets are gay; That children cry the lily bloom All up and down the leafy way; That half the town is mad with May, With flame of flag and boom of bell: For Carnival is King to-day; So pen and page, awhile farewell....
5. Nights Nothings Again WHO knows what I know When I have asked the night questions And the night has answered nothing Only the old answers? Who picked a crimson cryptogram, The tail light of a motor car turning a corner, Or the midnight sign of a chile con carne place, Or a man out of the ashes of […]...
6. 346. Song-Such a parcel of Rogues in a Nation FAREWEEL to a’ our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory; Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish name, Sae fam’d in martial story. Now Sark rins over Solway sands, An’ Tweed rins to the ocean, To mark where England’s province stands- Such a parcel of rogues in a nation! What force or guile could not subdue, Thro’ […]...
7. Fareweel To A'Our Scottish Fame Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory; Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish name, Sae famed in martial story! Now Sark rins over Solway sands, And Tweed rins to the ocean, To mark where England’s province stands – Such a parcel of rogues in a nation! What force or guile could not subdue […]...
8. Summer Nights Lamoni, Iowa The factory siren tells workers time to go home Tells them the evening has begun. When living with the tall man Whom I didn’t love, I would wander The streets, dreaming of Italy. Trekking the handful of avenues With him, he would say look there Between pink cobblestones, There’s manure like mortar. The […]...
9. These are the Nights that Beetles love These are the Nights that Beetles love From Eminence remote Drives ponderous perpendicular His figure intimate The terror of the Children The merriment of men Depositing his Thunder He hoists abroad again A Bomb upon the Ceiling Is an improving thing It keeps the nerves progressive Conjecture flourishing Too dear the Summer evening Without discreet […]...
10. How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights When people have put out the Lights And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in How pompous the Wind must feel Noons Stepping to incorporeal Tunes Correcting errors of the sky And clarifying scenery How mighty the Wind must feel Morns Encamping on a […]...
11. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
12. The Ballad of the Red Earl (It is not for them to criticize too minutely The methods the Irish followed, though they might deplore some of Their results. During the past few years Ireland had been going Through what was tantamount to a revolution. EARL SPENCER) Red Earl, and will ye take for guide The silly camel-birds, That ye bury your […]...
13. The Zeroes taught us Phosphorous The Zeroes taught us Phosphorous We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers when a Boy And Tinder guessed by power Of Opposite to balance Odd If White a Red must be! Paralysis our Primer dumb Unto Vitality!...
14. Tцrnfallet There is a meadow in Sweden Where I lie smitten, Eyes stained with clouds’ White ins and outs. And about that meadow Roams my widow Plaiting a clover Wreath for her lover. I took her in marriage In a granite parish. The snow lent her whiteness, A pine was a witness. She’d swim in the […]...
15. Recollection of the Arabian Nights WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow’d back with me, The forward-flowing tide of time; And many a sheeny summer-morn, Adown the Tigris I was borne, By Bagdat’s shrines of fretted gold, High-walled gardens green and old; True Mussulman was I and […]...
16. This Living Hand This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood So in my veins red life might stream again, And thou be conscience-calmed […]...
17. Nights Reflect Shadow puppets on the wall. Dark carbon copies of what a furnished room bares. Into a black covered mirror, my world reflects. Showing me things, only the night has to offer....
18. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
19. Arabian Nights When the call of the hudud, Echoes through the palm fronds Carrying in their mists, Visions, memories: Caravans of high spirited steads, Crisscrossing the endless seas of sand, Rushing through the oasis, Free, yet under control. Of women washing in the hot springs, Sheltered in the evergreen palms, Weaving baskets, Cooking, sewing, scampering after the […]...
20. Windy Nights Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about? Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea, By, on […]...
21. A Certain Man A certain man wishes to be a prince Of this earth; he also wants to be A saint and master of the being-world. Conscience cannot exist in the first: The second cannot exist without conscience. Therefore he, who has enough conscience To be disturbed but not enough to be Compelled, can neither reject the one […]...
22. Oh Who Is That Young Sinner Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists? And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists? And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air? Oh they’re taking him to prison for the color of his hair. ‘Tis a shame to human nature, such a head […]...
23. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
24. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
25. The Well At sixteen I believed the moonlight Could change me if it would. I moved my head On the pillow, even moved my bed As the moon slowly Crossed the open lattice. I wanted beauty, a dangerous Gleam of steel, my body thinner, My pale face paler. I moonbathed Diligently, as others sunbathe. But the moon’s […]...
26. Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens Last night I dreamed of chickens, There were chickens everywhere, They were standing on my stomach, They were nesting in my hair, They were pecking at my pillow, They were hopping on my head, They were ruffling up their feathers As they raced about my bed. They were on the chairs and tables, They were […]...
27. So Much I Gazed So much I gazed on beauty, That my vision is replete with it. Contours of the body. Red lips. Voluptuous limbs. Hair as if taken from greek statues; Always beautiful, even when uncombed, And it falls, slightly, over white foreheads. Faces of love, as my poetry Wanted them…. in the nights of my youth, In […]...
28. 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...
29. 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...
30. The Small Hours No more my little song comes back; And now of nights I lay My head on down, to watch the black And wait the unfailing gray. Oh, sad are winter nights, and slow; And sad’s a song that’s dumb; And sad it is to lie and know Another dawn will come....
31. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
32. 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!...
33. The Oldest Song “These were never your true love’s eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies, And the wide calm brows above them! This was never your true love’s speech. Why do you thrill when you hear it? You that have ridden out of its reach The width of the […]...
34. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
35. Madman's Song Better to see your cheek grown hollow, Better to see your temple worn, Than to forget to follow, follow, After the sound of a silver horn. Better to bind your brow with willow And follow, follow until you die, Than to sleep with your head on a golden pillow, Nor lift it up when the […]...
36. Denis Denis, whose motionable, alert, most vaulting wit Caps occasion with an intellectual fit. Yet Arthur is a Bowman: his three-heeled timber ‘ll hit The bald and bуld blнnking gold when бll ‘s dуne Right rooting in the bare butt’s wincing navel in the sight of the sun. . . . . . . . ....
37. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
38. Psalm 119 part 11 Breathing after holiness. Ver. 5,33 O that the Lord would guide my ways To keep his statutes still! O that my God would grant me grace To know and do his will! Ver. 29 O send thy Spirit down to write Thy law upon my heart! Nor let my tongue indulge deceit, Nor act the […]...
39. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
40. Love and Sleep Lying asleep between the strokes of night I saw my love lean over my sad bed, Pale as the duskiest lily’s leaf or head, Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite, Too wan for blushing and too warm for white, But perfect-colored without white or red. And her lips opened amorously, and said […]...