Saturday At The Canal

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1. Saturday Night in the Parthenon Tiny green birds skate over the surface of the room. A naked girl prepares a basin with steaming water, And in the corner away from the hearth, the red wheels Of an up-ended chariot slowly turn. After a long moment, the door to the other world opens And the golden figure of a man appears. […]...
2. Canal Bank Walk Leafy-with-love banks and the green waters of the canal Pouring redemption for me, that I do The will of God, wallow in the habitual, the banal, Grow with nature again as before I grew. The bright stick trapped, the breeze adding a third Party to the couple kissing on an old seat, And a bird […]...
3. 83. The Cotter's Saturday Night MY lov’d, my honour’d, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend’s esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life’s sequester’d scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a […]...
4. 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. . . […]...
5. La Paloma in London About Soho we went before the light; We went, unresting six, craving new fun, New scenes, new raptures, for the fevered night Of rollicking laughter, drink and song, was done. The vault was void, but for the dawn’s great star That shed upon our path its silver flame, When La Paloma on a low guitar […]...
6. Crossroads The second half of my life will be black To the white rind of the old and fading moon. The second half of my life will be water Over the cracked floor of these desert years. I will land on my feet this time, Knowing at least two languages and who My friends are. I […]...
7. Fairy Tale Now this is the story of Olaf Who ages and ages ago Lived right on the top of a mountain, A mountain all covered with snow. And he was quite pretty and tiny With beautiful curling fair hair And small hands like delicate flowers Cheeks kissed by the cold mountain air. He lived in a […]...
8. Death Fugue Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown We drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night We drink it and drink it We dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes He writes when […]...
9. Seaport Green sea-tarnished copper And sea-tarnished gold Of cupolas. Sea-runnelled streets Channelled by salt air That wears the white stone. The sunlight-filled cistern Of a dry-dock. Square shadows. Sun-slatted smoke above meticulous stooping of cranes. Water pressed up by ships’ prows Going, coming. City dust turned Back by the sea-wind’s Wall....
10. Saturday Morning Everyone who made love the night before Was walking around with flashing red lights On top of their heads-a white-haired old gentlemen, A red-faced schoolboy, a pregnant woman Who smiled at me from across the street And gave a little secret shrug, As if the flashing red light on her head Was a small price […]...
11. Saturday's Child Some are teethed on a silver spoon, With the stars strung for a rattle; I cut my teeth as the black racoon For implements of battle. Some are swaddled in silk and down, And heralded by a star; They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown On a night that was black as tar. For […]...
12. The Loneliness One dare not sound The Loneliness One dare not sound And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size The Loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny The Horror not to be surveyed But skirted in the Dark With Consciousness suspended And […]...
13. Saturday Paseo: Adelina Oranges Do not grow in the sea Neither is there love in Sevilla. You in Dark and the I the sun that’s hot, Loan me your parasol. I’ll wear my jealous reflection, Juice of lemon and lime- And your words, Your sinful little words- Will swim around awhile. Oranges Do not grow in the sea, […]...
14. The Coliseum Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary Of lofty contemplation left to Time By buried centuries of pomp and power! At length – at length – after so many days Of weary pilgrimage and burning thirst, (Thirst for the springs of lore that in thee lie,) I kneel, an altered and an humble man, Amid […]...
15. On Looking for Models The trees in time Have something else to do Besides their treeing. What is it. I’m a starving to death Man myself, and thirsty, thirsty By their fountains but I cannot drink Their mud and sunlight to be whole. I do not understand these presences That drink for months In the dirt, eat light, And […]...
16. Lady At A Mirror As in sleeping-drink spices Softly she loosens in the liquid-clear Mirror her fatigued demeanor; And she puts her smile deep inside. And she waits while the liquid Rises from it; then she pours her hair Into the mirror, and, lifting one Wondrous shoulder from the evening gown, She drinks quietly from her image. She drinks […]...
17. The Wood Nymph A glint of her hair or a flash of her shoulder – That is the most I can boast to have seen, Then all is lost as the shadows enfold her, Forest glades making a screen of their green, Could I cast off all the cares of tomorrow – Could I forget all the fret […]...
18. Consummation Of Grief I even hear the mountains The way they laugh Up and down their blue sides And down in the water The fish cry And the water Is their tears. I listen to the water On nights I drink away And the sadness becomes so great I hear it in my clock It becomes knobs upon […]...
19. Yeats Died Saturday In France Yeats died Saturday in France. Freedom from his animal Has come at last in alien Nice, His heart beat separate from his will: He knows at last the old abyss Which always faced his staring face. No ability, no dignity Can fail him now who trained so long For the outrage of eternity, Teaching his […]...
20. Hymn To Life The hair falling on your forehead suddenly lifted. Suddenly something stirred on the ground. The trees are whispering in the dark. Your bare arms will be cold. Far off where we can’t see, the moon must be rising. It hasn’t reached us yet, slipping through the leaves to light up your shoulder. But I know […]...
21. Gacela of the Dark Death I want to sleep the dream of the apples, To withdraw from the tumult of cemetries. I want to sleep the dream of that child Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas. I don’t want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood, That the putrid mouth goes on […]...
22. Evadne I first tasted under Apollo’s lips, Love and love sweetness, I, Evadne; My hair is made of crisp violets Or hyacinth which the wind combs back Across some rock shelf; I, Evadne, Was made of the god of light. His hair was crisp to my mouth, As the flower of the crocus, Across my cheek, […]...
23. Hard Luck I left the course, and by my side There walked a ruined tout A hungry creature, evil-eyed, Who poured this story out. “You see,” he said, “there came a swell To Kensington today, And, if I picked the winners well, A crown at least he’s pay. “I picked three winners straight, I did; I filled […]...
24. The Rain and the Wind The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain They are with us like a disease: They worry the heart, they work the brain, As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane, And savage the helpless trees. What does it profit a man to know These tattered and tumbling skies A million stately […]...
25. The New Mistress “Oh, sick I am to see you, will you never let me be? You may be good for something, but you are not good for me. Oh, go where you are wanted, for you are not wanted here. And that was all the farewell when I parted from my dear. “I will go where I […]...
26. The Bandaged Shoulder He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen. But there was probably another reason For the wounded and bandaged shoulder. With a somewhat abrupt movement, To bring down from a shelf some Photographs that he wanted to see closely, The bandage was untied and a little blood ran. […]...
27. Sacrifices All winter the fire devoured everything Tear-stained elegies, old letters, diaries, dead flowers. When April finally arrived, I opened the woodstove one last time And shoveled the remains of those long cold nights Into a bucket, ash rising Through shafts of sunlight, As swirling in bright, angelic eddies. I shoveled out the charred end of […]...
28. Cain and Abel Cain and Abel were brothers born. (Koop-la! Come along, cows!) One raised cattle and one raised corn. (Koop-la! Come along! Co-hoe!) And Cain he farmed by the river-side, So he did not care how much it dried. For he banked, and he sluiced, and he ditched and he led (And the Corn don’t care for […]...
29. Sonnet: Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire Of watching you; and swing me suddenly Into the shade and loneliness and mire Of the last land! There, waiting patiently, One day, I think, I’ll feel a cool wind blowing, See a slow light across the Stygian tide, And hear the Dead about me stir, […]...
30. A Spell before Winter After the red leaf and the gold have gone, Brought down by the wind, then by hammering rain Bruised and discolored, when October’s flame Goes blue to guttering in the cusp, this land Sinks deeper into silence, darker into shade. There is a knowledge in the look of things, The old hills hunch before the […]...
31. Ontological This is going to cost you. If you really want to hear a Country fiddle, you have to listen Hard, high up in its twang and needle. You can’t be running off like this, All knotted up with yearning, Following some train whistle, Can’t hang onto anything that way. When you’re looking for what’s lost, […]...
32. What the Miner in the Desert Said The moon’s a brass-hooped water-keg, A wondrous water-feast. If I could climb the ridge and drink And give drink to my beast; If I could drain that keg, the flies Would not be biting so, My burning feet be spry again, My mule no longer slow. And I could rise and dig for ore, And […]...
33. Symbol The winter apples have been picked, the garden turned. Rain and wind have picked the maple leaves and gone. The last of them now bank the house or have been burned. None are left upon the trees or on the lawn. Green and tall as ever it grew in spring the grass Grows not too […]...
34. In a Garden Gushing from the mouths of stone men To spread at ease under the sky In granite-lipped basins, Where iris dabble their feet And rustle to a passing wind, The water fills the garden with its rushing, In the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, Where trickle […]...
35. The Ride The horse beneath me seemed To know what course to steer Through the horror of snow I dreamed, And so I had no fear, Nor was I chilled to death By the wind’s white shudders, thanks To the veils of his patient breath And the mist of sweat from his flanks. It seemed that all […]...
36. Loneliness Now it is Loneliness who comes at night Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed. Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread, I watch her softly blowing out the light. Motionless sitting, neither left or right She turns, and weary, weary droops her head. She, too, is old; she, too, has […]...
37. Canto XLIX For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses: Rain; empty river; a voyage, Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight Under the cabin roof was one lantern. The reeds are heavy; bent; And the bamboos speak as if weeping. Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes Against sunset Evening is like a […]...
38. The Lure Of Little Voices There’s a cry from out the loneliness oh, listen, Honey, listen! Do you hear it, do you fear it, you’re a-holding of me so? You’re a-sobbing in your sleep, dear, and your lashes, how they glisten Do you hear the Little Voices all a-begging me to go? All a-begging me to leave you. Day and […]...
39. The Wind Sings Welcome in Early Spring (For Paula)THE GRIP of the ice is gone now. The silvers chase purple. The purples tag silver. They let out their runners Here where summer says to the lilies: “Wish and be wistful, Circle this wind-hunted, wind-sung water.” Come along always, come along now. You for me, kiss me, pull me by the ear. Push […]...
40. The Banyan Tree O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond, Have you forgotten the little chile, like the birds that have Nested in your branches and left you? Do you not remember how he sat at the window and wondered at The tangle of your roots and plunged underground? The women would come […]...