Epilogue

Related poetry:

1. Epilogue WELL, when all is said and done Best within my narrow way, May some angel of the sun Muse memorial o’er my clay: “Here was beauty all betrayed From the freedom of her state; From her human uses stayed On an idle rhyme to wait. “Ah, what deep despair might move If the beauty lit […]...
2. Epilogue Between the wave-ridge and the strand I let you forth in sight of land, Songs that with storm-crossed wings and eyes Strain eastward till the darkness dies; Let signs and beacons fall or stand, And stars and balefires set and rise; Ye, till some lordlier lyric hand Weave the beloved brows their crown, At the […]...
3. Epilogue Those blessиd structures, plot and rhyme Why are they no help to me now I want to make Something imagined, not recalled? I hear the noise of my own voice: The painter’s vision is not a lens, it trembles to caress the light. But sometimes everything I write With the threadbare art of my eye […]...
4. An Epilogue I had seen flowers come in stony places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races, Ao I trust, too....
5. Epilogue Patience, little Heart. One day a heavy, June-hot woman Will enter and shut the door to stay. And when your stifling heart would summon Cool, lonely night, her roused breasts will keep the night at bay, Sitting in your room like two tiger-lilies Flaming on after sunset, Destroying the cool, lonely night with the glow […]...
6. Epilogue I have refused to refuse to publish This book of poetry Today they’ve found Over a hundred poems In this volume Tomorrow, yet more One day, even skeptics incurrable Willl be thrilled by the flair of my skill And god-playing critics will chill At the blood spilt from my quill...
7. Epilogue UNDER THE BLESSING OF YOUR PSYCHE WINGS Though I have found you llke a snow-drop pale, On sunny days have found you weak and still, Though I have often held your girlish head Drooped on my shoulder, faint from little ill:- Under the blessing of your Psyche-wings I hide to-night like one small broken bird, […]...
8. Epilogue Che son contenti nel fuoco We are of those that Dante saw Glad, for love’s sake, among the flames of hell, Outdaring with a kiss all-powerful wrath; For we have passed athwart a fiercer hell, Through gloomier, more desperate circles Than ever Dante dreamed: And yet love kept us glad....
9. Epilogue “Why can’t you say what you mean straight out in prose?” Well, say it yourself: then say “It’s that, but more, Or less perhaps, or not that way, or not That after all.” The meaning of a song Might be an undernote; this tree might mean That leaf as much as trunk, branch, other leaves. […]...
10. THE FOOL'S EPILOGUE MANY good works I’ve done and ended, Ye take the praise I’m not offended; For in the world, I’ve always thought Each thing its true position hath sought. When praised for foolish deeds am I, I set off laughing heartily; When blamed for doing something good, I take it in an easy mood. If some […]...
11. Epilogue To Asolando At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time, When you set your fancies free, Will they pass to where by death, fools think, imprisoned Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so, Pity me? Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken! What had I on earth to […]...
12. Epilogue to Through the Looking Glass A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear Pleased a simple tale to hear Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise Alice moving under skies […]...
13. Critic and Poet: an Epilogue No man had ever heard a nightingale, When once a keen-eyed naturalist was stirred To study and define what is a bird, To classify by rote and book, nor fail To mark its structure and to note the scale Whereon its song might possibly be heard. Thus far, no farther; so he spake the word. […]...
14. An Old Man At the back of the noisy café Bent over a table sits an old man; A newspaper in front of him, without company. And in the scorn of his miserable old age He ponders how little he enjoyed the years When he had strength, and the power of the word, and good looks. He knows […]...
15. The Time Around Scars A girl whom I’ve not spoken to Or shared coffee with for several years Writes of an old scar. On her wrist it sleeps, smooth and white, The size of a leech. I gave it to her Brandishing a new Italian penknife. Look, I said turning, And blood spat onto her shirt. My wife has […]...
16. Nirvana not much chance, Completely cut loose from Purpose, He was a young man Riding a bus Through North Carolina On the wat to somewhere And it began to snow And the bus stopped At a little cafe In the hills And the passengers Entered. He sat at the counter With the others, He ordered and […]...
17. Of Modern Poetry The poem of the mind in the act of finding What will suffice. It has not always had To find: the scene was set; it repeated what Was in the script. Then the theatre was changed To something else. Its past was a souvenir. It has to be living, to learn the speech of the […]...
18. Music, In A Foreign Language In a cafe, once more I heard Your voice – those sparse and frugal notes. Do they not say that you spoke your native Greek With an English accent? Briefest of visions: eyes meet across the cafe; A man of about my age – eyelids heavy, Perhaps from recent pleasures. I begin the most innocent […]...
19. For Mac A dead starfish on a beach He has five branches Representing the five senses Representing the jokes we did not tell each other Call the earth flat Call other people human But let this creature lie Flat upon our senses Like a love Prefigured in the sea That died. And went to water All the […]...
20. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
21. 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 […]...
22. No More Music The Porch was blazoned with geranium bloom; Myrtle and jasmine meadows lit the lea; With rose and violet the vale’s perfume Languished to where the hyacinthine sea Dreamed tenderly. . . “And I must go,” said he. He spoke in that dim, ghostly voice of his: “I was a singer; then the Was. . . […]...
23. 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...
24. 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...
25. Pink small and punctual Pink small and punctual Aromatic low Covert in April Candid in May Dear to the Moss Known to the Knoll Next to the Robin In every human Soul Bold little Beauty Bedecked with thee Nature forswears Antiquity...
26. Ligne imaginaire Fumées Des cigarettes Et tasses Pleines de café, À côté De la ligne imaginaire, Sur la quelle la vitesse Des mots S’ appuie Et envoie un signale À mon silence Blessé....
27. Boston My northern pines are good enough for me, But there’s a town my memory uprears – A town that always like a friend appears, And always in the sunrise by the sea. And over it, somehow, there seems to be A downward flash of something new and fierce, That ever strives to clear, but never […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. To Marianne Moore If the idea of immortality is excluded, There remains dust, Grass, Water that forms puddles, The branch from which the bird sings, A certain mystery that reason Supposes a fleeting shadow. There remains, in the end, life, The room where a woman pulls on her stockings, The other room, perhaps adjoining, Where a couple undress […]...
30. There Was A Time, I Need Not Name There was a time, I need not name, Since it will ne’er forgotten be, When all our feelings were the same As still my soul hath been to thee. And from that hour when first thy tongue Confess’d a love which equall’d mine, Though many a grief my heart hath wrung, Unknown, and thus unfelt, […]...
31. 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!...
32. Recipe For Happiness Khaborovsk Or Anyplace One grand boulevard with trees With one grand cafe in sun With strong black coffee in very small cups. One not necessarily very beautiful Man or woman who loves you. One fine day....
33. 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 […]...
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. Florentine Pilgrim “I’ll do the old dump in a day,” He told me in his brittle way. “Two more, I guess, I’ll give to Rome Before I hit the trail for home; But while I’m there I kindo’ hope To have an audience with the Pope.” We stood upon the terraced height With sunny Florence in our […]...
36. The Cat's Song Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness. My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says The cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing Milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts. Let us walk in the woods, says the cat. I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents, To fade […]...
37. 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 […]...
38. Let Love Go, If Go She Will LET love go, if go she will. Seek not, O fool, her wanton flight to stay. Of all she gives and takes away The best remains behind her still. The best remains behind; in vain Joy she may give and take again, Joy she may take and leave us pain, If yet she leave behind […]...
39. Growing Old What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? Is it for beauty to forego her wreath? Yes, but not for this alone. Is it to feel our strength – Not our bloom only, but our strength-decay? Is it to feel each limb Grow […]...
40. In January Only one cell in the frozen hive of night Is lit, or so it seems to us: This Vietnamese café, with its oily light, Its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers. Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks. Beyond the glass, the wintry city Creaks like an ancient wooden bridge. A great wind rushes […]...