In A Breton Cemetery

Related poetry:

1. 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 […]...
2. Breton Wife A Wintertide we had been wed When Jan went off to sea; And now the laurel rose is red And I wait on the quay. His berthing boat I watch with dread, For where, oh where is he? “Weep not, brave lass,” the Skipper said; “Return to you he will; In hospital he lies abed […]...
3. Sonnet 10 How darkly o’er yon far-off mountain frowns The gather’d tempest! from that lurid cloud The deep-voiced thunders roll, aweful and loud Tho’ distant; while upon the misty downs Fast falls in shadowy streaks the pelting rain. I never saw so terrible a storm! Perhaps some way-worn traveller in vain Wraps his torn raiment round his […]...
4. 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 […]...
5. The Jewish Cemetery at Newport How strange it seems! These Hebrews in their graves, Close by the street of this fair seaport town, Silent beside the never-silent waves, At rest in all this moving up and down! The trees are white with dust, that o’er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the southwind’s breath, While underneath these leafy tents […]...
6. Cape Breton Out on the high “bird islands,” Ciboux and Hertford, The razorbill auks and the silly-looking puffins all stand With their backs to the mainland In solemn, uneven lines along the cliff’s brown grass-frayed edge, While the few sheep pastured there go “Baaa, baaa.” (Sometimes, frightened by aeroplanes, they stampede And fall over into the sea […]...
7. Bells in the Rain Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain, Upon the steep cliffs of the town. Sleep falls; men are at peace again While the small drops fall softly down. The bright drops ring like bells of glass Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown; Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass So softly as it falls on […]...
8. Edmonton, thy cemetery Edmonton, thy cemetery In which I love to tread Has roused in me a dreary thought For all the countless dead, Ah me, the countless dead. Yet I believe that one is one And shall for ever be, And while I hold to this belief I walk, oh cemetery, Thy footpaths happily. And I believe […]...
9. A Jewish Cemetery In Germany On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery, A Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs, Abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer Nor the voice of lamentation is heard there For the dead praise not the Lord. Only the voices of our children ring out, seeking graves and […]...
10. My Masterpiece It’s slim and trim and bound in blue; Its leaves are crisp and edged with gold; Its words are simple, stalwart too; Its thoughts are tender, wise and bold. Its pages scintillate with wit; Its pathos clutches at my throat: Oh, how I love each line of it! That Little Book I Never Wrote. In […]...
11. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
12. It's Grand It’s grand to be a squatter And sit upon a post, And watch your little ewes and lambs A-giving up the ghost. It’s grand to be a “cockie” With wife and kids to keep, And find an all-wise Providence Has mustered all your sheep. It’s grand to be a Western man, With shovel in your […]...
13. The New Colossus Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor […]...
14. Margaritae Sorori A LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies: And from the west, Where the sun, his day’s work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace. The smoke ascends In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Shine and are changed. In the valley Shadows […]...
15. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
16. Veteran Sirens The ghost of Ninon would be sorry now To laugh at them, were she to see them here, So brave and so alert for learning how To fence with reason for another year. Age offers a far comelier diadem Than theirs; but anguish has no eye for grace, When time’s malicious mercy cautions them To […]...
17. Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia Swings the way still by hollow and hill, And all the world’s a song; “She’s far,” it sings me, “but fair,” it rings me, “Quiet,” it laughs, “and strong!” Oh! spite of the miles and years between us, Spite of your chosen part, I do remember; and I go With laughter in my heart. So […]...
18. Oh! Breathe Not His Name Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour’d his relics are laid: Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o’er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the […]...
19. At Lord's It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though my own red roses there may blow; It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though the red roses crest the caps, I know. For the field is full of shades as I near the shadowy coast, And […]...
20. Nicholas Nye Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to sprawl In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake, While the birds went twittering by, And nobody there my lone to share But Nicholas Nye. Nicholas Nye was lean […]...
21. Cheery Beggar Beyond Mбgdalen and by the Bridge, on a place called there the Plain, In Summer, in a burst of summertime Following falls and falls of rain, When the air was sweet-and-sour of the flown fineflower of Those goldnails and their gaylinks that hang along a lime; . . . . . . . . The […]...
22. Wimborne minster though there’s not much faith left And very little snow This scene of wimborne minster Still makes its christmas show The building’s warm proportions Its sense of move-me-not Catches this winter pagan On a most forgiving spot Christmas itself unwinds Back to that moment when Mind first let a light in And darkness cried amen […]...
23. 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 […]...
24. Sonnet LXVI: The Night-Flood Rakes The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore; Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves Mourns the hoarse Ocean, seeming to deplore All that are buried in his restless waves- Mined by corrosive tides, the hollow rock Falls prone, and rushing from its turfy height, Shakes the broad beach with long-resounding shock, Loud thundering on the […]...
25. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
26. The Apparition When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I am dead, And that thou think’st thee free From all solicitation from me, Then shall my ghost come to thy bed, And thee, feigned vestal, in worse arms shall see; Then thy sick taper will begin to wink, And he, whose thou art then, being tired before, Will, […]...
27. Crazy Jane And Jack The Journeyman I know, although when looks meet I tremble to the bone, The more I leave the door unlatched The sooner love is gone, For love is but a skein unwound Between the dark and dawn. A lonely ghost the ghost is That to God shall come; I – love’s skein upon the ground, My body […]...
28. In The Seven Woods I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile Tara uprooted, and new commonness Upon the throne and crying about the streets And hanging […]...
29. To an Ungentle Critic The great sun sinks behind the town Through a red mist of Volnay wine…. But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the town? You’ll only skip the page, you’ll look For newer pictures in this book; You’ve read of sunsets rich as mine. A fresh wind fills the evening air With […]...
30. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
31. The Pines We sleep in the sleep of ages, the bleak, barbarian pines; The gray moss drapes us like sages, and closer we lock our lines, And deeper we clutch through the gelid gloom where never a sunbeam shines. On the flanks of the storm-gored ridges are our black battalions massed; We surge in a host to […]...
32. Innocence The height of wisdom seems to me That of a child; So let my ageing vision be Serene and mild. The depth of folly, I aver, Is to fish deep In that dark pool of science where Truth-demons sleep. Let me not be a bearded sage Seeing too clear; In issues of the atom age […]...
33. A Loafer I hang about the streets all day, At night I hang about; I sleep a little when I may, But rise betimes the morning’s scout; For through the year I always hear Afar, aloft, a ghostly shout. My clothes are worn to threads and loops; My skin shows here and there ; About my face […]...
34. Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight In Springfield, Illinois IT is portentious, and a thing of state That here at midnight, in our little town A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, Near the old court-house, pacing up and down. Or by his homestead, or by shadowed yards He lingers where his children used to play, Or through the market, […]...
35. Phantasmagoria CANTO V ( Byckerment ) “DON’T they consult the ‘Victims,’ though?” I said. “They should, by rights, Give them a chance – because, you know, The tastes of people differ so, Especially in Sprites.” The Phantom shook his head and smiled. “Consult them? Not a bit! ‘Twould be a job to drive one wild, To satisfy one single child – […]...
36. To Dorothy You are not beautiful, exactly. You are beautiful, inexactly. You let a weed grow by the mulberry And a mulberry grow by the house. So close, in the personal quiet Of a windy night, it brushes the wall And sweeps away the day till we sleep. A child said it, and it seemed true: “Things […]...
37. The Widow Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell, Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked, When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey Weary and way-sore. Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflexions; Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom! She had no home, the world was all before […]...
38. Clock-O'-Clay In the cowslip pips I lie, Hidden from the buzzing fly, While green grass beneath me lies, Pearled with dew like fishes’ eyes, Here I lie, a clock-o’-clay, Waiting for the time o’ day. While the forest quakes surprise, And the wild wind sobs and sighs, My home rocks as like to fall, On its […]...
39. The Sunken Crown Nothing will hold him longer-let him go; Let him go down where others have gone down; Little he cares whether we smile or frown, Or if we know, or if we think we know. The call is on him for his overthrow, Say we; so let him rise, or let him drown. Poor fool! He […]...
40. Young Fellow My Lad “Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?” “I’m going to join the Colours, Dad; They’re looking for men, they say.” “But you’re only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad; You aren’t obliged to go.” “I’m seventeen and a quarter, Dad, And ever so strong, you know.” * * […]...