The Village Blacksmith

Related poetry:

1. The Fitzroy Blacksmith Under the spreading deficit, The Fitzroy Smithy stands; The smith, a spendthrift man is he, With too much on his hands; But the muscles of his brawny jaw Are strong as iron bands. Pay out, pay put, from morn till night, You can hear the sovereigns go; Or you’ll hear him singing “Old Folks at […]...
2. The North Star Whispers to the Blacksmith's Son THE North Star whispers: “You are one Of those whose course no chance can change. You blunder, but are not undone, Your spirit-task is fixed and strange. “When here you walk, a bloodless shade, A singer all men else forget. Your chants of hammer, forge and spade Will move the prarie-village yet. “That young, stiff-necked, […]...
3. The Village Green On the cheerful village green, Skirted round with houses small, All the boys and girls are seen, Playing there with hoop and ball. Now they frolic hand in hand, Making many a merry chain; Then they form a warlike band, Marching o’er the level plain. Now ascends the worsted ball, High it rises in the […]...
4. The Village of Tayport and Its Surroundings All ye pleasure-seekers, where’er ye be, I pray ye all be advised by me, Go and visit Tayport on the banks o’ the Tay, And there ye can spend a pleasant holiday. The village and its surroundings are magnificent to be seen, And the shops on the High Street are tidy and clean, And the […]...
5. Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? Then crouch within the door Red is the Fire’s common tint But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions, It quivers from the Forge Without a color, but the light Of unanointed Blaze. Least Village has its Blacksmith Whose Anvil’s even ring Stands symbol for […]...
6. The Dead Village Here there is death. But even here, they say, Here where the dull sun shines this afternoon As desolate as ever the dead moon Did glimmer on dead Sardis, men were gay; And there were little children here to play, With small soft hands that once did keep in tune The strings that stretch from […]...
7. THE MOUNTAIN VILLAGE “THE mountain village was destroy’d; But see how soon is fill’d the void! Shingles and boards, as by magic arise, The babe in his cradle and swaddling-clothes lies; How blest to trust to God’s protection!” Behold a wooden new erection, So that, if sparks and wind but choose, God’s self at such a game must […]...
8. The Illinois Village O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones of fear, Who weep that Liberty must die, Turn to the little prairie towns, Your higher hope shall yet begin. On every side awaits you there Some gate where glory enters in. Yet when I […]...
9. I often passed the village I often passed the village When going home from school And wondered what they did there And why it was so still I did not know the year then In which my call would come Earlier, by the Dial, Than the rest have gone. It’s stiller than the sundown. It’s cooler than the dawn The […]...
10. Beautiful Village of Penicuik The village of Penicuik, with its neighbouring spinning mills, Is most lovely to see, and the Pentland Hills; And though of a barren appearance and some parts steep, They are covered with fine pasture and sustain flocks of sheep. There, tourists while there should take a good look, By viewing the surrounding beauties of Penicuik; […]...
11. The Village Scarcely a street, too few houses To merit the title; just a way between The one tavern and the one shop That leads nowhere and fails at the top Of the short hill, eaten away By long erosion of the green tide Of grass creeping perpetually nearer This last outpost of time past. So little […]...
12. The Village Atheist Ye young debaters over the doctrine Of the soul’s immortality I who lie here was the village atheist, Talkative, contentious, versed in the arguments Of the infidels. But through a long sickness Coughing myself to death I read the Upanishads and the poetry of Jesus. And they lighted a torch of hope and intuition And […]...
13. Queen Mab in the Village Once I loved a fairy, Queen Mab it was. Her voice Was like a little Fountain That bids the birds rejoice. Her face was wise and solemn, Her hair was brown and fine. Her dress was pansy velvet, A butterfly design. To see her hover round me Or walk the hills of air, Awakened love’s […]...
14. CARILLON In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times, And changing like a poet’s rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the Belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges. Then, with […]...
15. Last Week Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run, But he should have gone there last week. He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun, But of turkey of duck saw never a one, For he should have been there last week, They said, There were flocks of ’em there last week. He wended his way […]...
16. Village in Late Summer LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers....
17. The Deserted Village Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid, And parting summer’s lingering blooms delayed: Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, where every sport could please, How often have I loitered o’er your green, Where humble happiness […]...
18. The Village Garden To E. M. S. Here, where your garden fenced about and still is, Here, where the unmoved summer air is sweet With mixed delight of lavender and lilies, Dreaming I linger in the noontide heat. Of many summers are the trees recorders, The turf a carpet many summers wove; Old-fashioned blossoms cluster in the borders, […]...
19. In The Village Of My Ancestors Someone embraces me Someone looks at me with the eyes of a wolf Someone takes off his hat So I can see him better Everyone asks me Do you know how I’m related to you Unknown old men and women Appropriate the names Of young men and women from my memory I ask one of […]...
20. On A Watch Made By A Blacksmith A Vulcan and a Venus seldom part. A blacksmith never us’d to filinge art Beyond a lock and key, for Venus’ sake Hath cut a watch soe small that sence will ake In searching every wire, and subtile sphere Which his industrious skill hath order’d theire: It scarce outswells a nut, and is soe light […]...
21. For M. W There is no transcience of twilight in The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face, No flicker of a slender flame in space, In crucibles, fragility crystalline. There is no fragrance of the jessamine About you, no pathos of some old place At dusk, that crumbles like moth-eaten lace Beneath the touch. Nor has there ever […]...
22. The Divine Lullaby I hear Thy voice, dear Lord; I hear it by the stormy sea When winter nights are black and wild, And when, affright, I call to Thee; It calms my fears and whispers me, “Sleep well, my child.” I hear Thy voice, dear Lord, In singing winds, in falling snow, The curfew chimes, the midnight […]...
23. Little all-aloney Little All-Aloney’s feet Pitter-patter in the hall, And his mother runs to meet And to kiss her toddling sweet, Ere perchance he fall. He is, oh, so weak and small! Yet what danger shall he fear When his mother hovereth near, And he hears her cheering call: “All-Aloney”? Little All-Aloney’s face It is all aglow […]...
24. I Hear America Singing I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics-each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in […]...
25. Village Virtue Jenny was my first sweetheart; Poor lass! she was none too smart. Though I swore she’d never rue it, She would never let me do it. When I tried she mad a fuss, So damn pure and virtuous. Girls should cozen all they can, Use their wiles to get their man. June, my second, was […]...
26. Two Months June No hope, no change! The clouds have shut us in, And through the cloud the sullen Sun strikes down Full on the bosom of the tortured Town, Till Night falls heavy as remembered sin That will not suffer sleep or thought of ease, And, hour on hour, the dry-eyed Moon in spite Glares through […]...
27. Land, Ho! I know ’tis but a loom of land, Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice, I know I cannot hear His voice Upon the shore, nor see Him stand; Yet is it land, ho! land. The land! the land! the lovely land! ‘Far off,’ dost say? Far off-ah, blessиd home! Farewell! farewell! thou […]...
28. Do You Hear The Angel Speaking? Do you hear the angel speaking? Do you hear her heavenly voice? Do you hear the song she’s singing? Will you help her to rejoice? Do you hear her when you’re weary And find it hard to cope? Do you hear her inspiration and Her messages of hope? Do you hear her voice of wisdom… […]...
29. Village Don Juan Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun; And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me; Ice-blue eyes on every hand, Handsomest youngsters in the land. “Old Stud Horse” they say of me, But back of my beard I laugh with glee. […]...
30. The House Of Dust: Part 04: 04: Counterpoint: Two Rooms He, in the room above, grown old and tired, She, in the room below-his floor her ceiling- Pursue their separate dreams. He turns his light, And throws himself on the bed, face down, in laughter. . . . She, by the window, smiles at a starlight night, His watch-the same he has heard these cycles […]...
31. The Shepherd How sweet is the Shepherd’s sweet lot, From the morn to the evening he strays: He shall follow his sheep all the day And his tongue shall be filled with praise. For he hears the lambs innocent call, And he hears the ewes tender reply, He is watchful while they are in peace, For they […]...
32. Sonnet XL: My Heart the Anvil My heart the anvil where my thoughts do beat; My words the hammers fashioning my desire; My breast the forge including all the heat; Love is the fuel which maintains the fire; My sighs the bellows which the flame increaseth, Filling mine ears with noise and nightly groaning; Toiling with pain, my labor never ceaseth, […]...
33. To John Hamilton Reynolds O that a week could be an age, and we Felt parting and warm meeting every week, Then one poor year a thousand years would be, The flush of welcome ever on the cheek: So could we live long life in little space, So time itself would be annihilate, So a day’s journey in oblivious […]...
34. Widow McFarlane I was the Widow McFarlane, Weaver of carpets for all the village. And I pity you still at the loom of life, You who are singing to the shuttle And lovingly watching the work of your hands, If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth. For the cloth of life is woven, you […]...
35. Fighting Mac A Life Tragedy A pistol shot rings round and round the world; In pitiful defeat a warrior lies. A last defiance to dark Death is hurled, A last wild challenge shocks the sunlit skies. Alone he falls, with wide, wan, woeful eyes: Eyes that could smile at death could not face shame. Alone, alone he […]...
36. An Attempt At Jealousy So how is life with your new bloke? Simpler, I bet. Just one stroke Of his quivering oar and the skin Of the Thames goes into a spin, Eh? How is life with an oarsman? Better? More in out? Athletic? Wetter? When you hear the moan of the rowlocks, Do you urge him on like […]...
37. Any Night Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas pine, The yellowing ash, all the trees Are gone, and I was older than All of them. I am older than the moon, Than the stars that fill my plate, Than the unseen planets that huddle Together here at the end of a year No one wanted. A year more […]...
38. Deborah's Parrot, a Village Tale ‘Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt: Her name was MISS, or MISTRESS, Brown, Or DEBORAH, or DEBBY: She Was doom’d a Spinster pure to be, For soft delights her breast ne’er felt: Yet, she had watchful Ears and Eyes For ev’ry youthful neighbour, And never did she cease to labour A […]...
39. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall Oh down at the tavern The children are singing Around their round table And around me still. Did you hear what it said? I only said How there is a pewter urn Pinned to the tavern wall, As old as old is able To be and be there still. I said, the poets are tere […]...
40. A Serenade At The Villa I. That was I, you heard last night, When there rose no moon at all, Nor, to pierce the strained and tight Tent of heaven, a planet small: Life was dead and so was light. II. Not a twinkle from the fly, Not a glimmer from the worm; When the crickets stopped their cry, When […]...