The Portent

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1. Shenandoah IN the Shenandoah Valley, one rider gray and one rider blue, and the sun on the riders wondering. Piled in the Shenandoah, riders blue and riders gray, piled with shovels, one and another, dust in the Shenandoah taking them quicker than mothers take children done with play. The blue nobody remembers, the gray nobody remembers, […]...
2. Ghosts in Love “Tell me, where do ghosts in love Find their bridal veils?” “If you and I were ghosts in love We’d climb the cliffs of Mystery, Above the sea of Wails. I’d trim your gray and streaming hair With veils of Fantasy From the tree of Memory. ‘Tis there the ghosts that fall in love Find […]...
3. Portent Courage mes gars: La guerre est proche. I plant my little plot of beans, I sit beneath my cyprus tree; I do not know what trouble means, I cultivate tranquillity. . . But as to-day my walk I made In all serenity and cheer, I saw cut in an agave blade: “Courage, my comrades, war […]...
4. Your noble reign The man whose term we would remember as our longest, Constant serving Head of State, besides the late Sir Robert Gordon Menzies, turned 67 yesterday. Congratulations John, You’ve run a long and torrid race, kept up a frenzied pace As leader of the pack. When looking back you’ll smile no Doubt, take time out to […]...
5. John Anderson John Anderson, my jo John, When we were first acquent Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is bald, John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo! John Anderson, my jo John, We clamb the hill thegither, And […]...
6. 271. Song-John Anderson, My Jo JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John, When we were first acquent; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And […]...
7. 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 […]...
8. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
9. Crazy Jane On The Day Of Judgment ‘Love is all Unsatisfied That cannot take the whole Body and soul’; And that is what Jane said. ‘Take the sour If you take me I can scoff and lour And scold for an hour.’ “That’s certainly the case,’ said he. ‘Naked I lay, The grass my bed; Naked and hidden away, That black day’; […]...
10. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
11. Lament Where are those dazzling hills touched by the sun, Those crags in childhood that I used to climb? Hidden, hidden under mist is yonder mountain, Hidden is the heart. A day of cloud, a lifetime falls between, Gone are the heather moors and the pure stream, Gone are the rocky places and the green, Hidden, […]...
12. I would to heaven that I were so much clay I would to heaven that I were so much clay, As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling – Because at least the past were passed away – And for the future – (but I write this reeling, Having got drunk exceedingly today, So that I seem to stand upon the ceiling) I say – […]...
13. The Ghost Of Roger Casement O what has made that sudden noise? What on the threshold stands? It never crossed the sea because John Bull and the sea are friends; But this is not the old sea Nor this the old seashore. What gave that roar of mockery, That roar in the sea’s roar? The ghost of Roger Casement Is […]...
14. The Visitation (For Louise Imogen Guiney) There is a wall of flesh before the eyes Of John, who yet perceives and hails his King. It is Our Lady’s painful bliss to bring Before mankind the Glory of the skies. Her cousin feels her womb’s sweet burden rise And leap with joy, and she comes forth to sing, […]...
15. First Sight Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro All they find, outside the fold, Is a wretched width of cold. As they wait beside the ewe, Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies Hidden round them, […]...
16. The Twins There were two brothers, John and James, And when the town went up in flames, To save the house of James dashed John, Then turned, and lo! his own was gone. And when the great World War began, To volunteer John promptly ran; And while he learned live bombs to lob, James stayed at home […]...
17. Life Let me but live my life from year to year, With forward face and unreluctant soul; Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal; Not mourning for the things that disappear In the dim past, nor holding back in fear From what the future veils; but with a whole And happy heart, that pays its […]...
18. An Adventure in the Life of King James V of Scotland On one occasion King James the Fifth of Scotland, when alone, in disguise, Near by the Bridge of Cramond met with rather a disagreeable surprise. He was attacked by five gipsy men without uttering a word, But he manfully defended himself with his sword. There chanced to be a poor man threshing corn in a […]...
19. Behold this Swarthy Face BEHOLD this swarthy face-these gray eyes, This beard-the white wool, unclipt upon my neck, My brown hands, and the silent manner of me, without charm; Yet comes one, a Manhattanese, and ever at parting, kisses me lightly on the lips with robust love, And I, on the crossing of the street, or on the ship’s […]...
20. To God the Father To the little, pitiful God I make my prayer, The God with the long grey beard And flowing robe fastened with a hempen girdle Who sits nodding and muttering on the all-too-big throne Of Heaven. What a long, long time, dear God, since you set the Stars in their places, Girded the earth with the […]...
21. TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
22. A SIMPLE POEM I want you to continue writing Because I will not always be around With lips that will never touch mine Read your poems out loud So that the words are left engraved On the wall Make me feel your voice rush through me Like a breeze from Oyá I want to hear about Puerto Rico […]...
23. Room 4: The Painter Chap He gives me such a bold and curious look, That young American across the way, As if he’d like to put me in a book (Fancies himself a poet, so they say.) Ah well! He’ll make no “document” of me. I lock my door. Ha! ha! Now none shall see. . . . Pictures, just […]...
24. LETTER TO MICHAEL HOROVITZ It is time after thirty years We had our Poetry Renaissance Rise, Children of Albion, rise! It is time after nightmares of sleep When we walked the streets of inner cities Our poems among the burnt-out houses And cars, whispering compassion To the addicts shaking and the homeless Waking and those who have come apart […]...
25. Historion No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and […]...
26. The Death of Robin Hood “Give me my bow,” said Robin Hood, “An arrow give to me; And where ‘t is shot mark thou that spot, For there my grave shall be.” Then Little John did make no sign, And not a word he spake; But he smiled, altho’ with mickle woe His heart was like to break. He raised […]...
27. He strained my faith He strained my faith Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust Did it then yield? Hurled my belief But did he shatter it? Racked with suspense Not a nerve failed! Wrung me with Anguish But I never doubted him ‘Tho’ for what wrong He did never say Stabbed while I sued His sweet […]...
28. Popularity I. Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you’ll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star! II. My star, God’s glow-worm! Why extend That loving hand of his which leads you Yet locks you […]...
29. Like Some Old fashioned Miracle Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June As infinite Tradition As Cinderella’s Bays Or Little John of Lincoln Green Or Blue Beard’s Galleries Her Bees have a fictitious Hum Her Blossoms, like a Dream Elate us till we almost weep So plausible they seem Her […]...
30. Tell Me Tell me, dear beauty of the dusk, When purple ribbons bind the hill, Do dreams your secret wish fulfill, Do prayers, like kernels from the husk Come from your lips? Tell me if when The mountains loom at night, giant shades Of softer shadow, swift like blades Of grass seeds come to flower. Then Tell […]...
31. Elegy It’s not that the Muse feels like clamming up, It’s more like high time for the lad’s last nap. And the scarf-waving lass who wished him the best Drives a steamroller across his chest. And the words won’t rise either like that rod Or like logs to rejoin their old grove’s sweet rot, And, like […]...
32. Daybreak In Alabama When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music about Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist And falling out of heaven like soft dew. I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it And the scent […]...
33. Silence My father used to say, “Superior people never make long visits, Have to be shown Longfellow’s grave Nor the glass flowers at Harvard. Self reliant like the cat That takes its prey to privacy, The mouse’s limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth They sometimes enjoy solitude, And can be robbed of speech […]...
34. THE SWISS ALPS YESTERDAY brown was still thy head, as the locks Of my loved one, Whose sweet image so dear silently beckons afar. Silver-grey is the early snow to-day on thy summit, Through the tempestuous night streaming fast over Thy brow. Youth, alas, throughout life as closely to age is united As, in some changeable dream, yesterday […]...
35. Poets to Come POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come! Not to-day is to justify me, and answer what I am for; But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known, Arouse! Arouse-for you must justify me-you must answer. I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future, I but advance […]...
36. John Evereldown “Where are you going to-night, to-night, Where are you going, John Evereldown? There’s never the sign of a star in sight, Nor a lamp that’s nearer than Tilbury Town. Why do you stare as a dead man might? Where are you pointing away from the light? And where are you going to-night, to-night, Where are […]...
37. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
38. Clouds to find the origin, Trace back the manifestations. Tao Between being and non-being Barely there These sails of water, ice, air – Indifferent drifters, wandering High on freedom Of the homeless Restlessly swithering Like ghosts, slithering through substance In puffs and wisps Lending an enchanting or ominous air Luminous or casting shadows, Ambivalent filters of […]...
39. Sonnet 42 – 'My future will not copy fair my past&#039 ‘My future will not copy fair my past’- I wrote that once; and thinking at my side My ministering life-angel justified The word by his appealing look upcast To the white throne of God, I turned at last, And there, instead, saw thee, not unallied To angels in thy soul! Then I, long tried By […]...
40. May Morning Deep into spring, winter is hanging on. Bitter and skillful in his Hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, starving along the Mediterranean: angry to see the glittering sea-pale boulder alive With lizards green as Judas leaves. Winter is hanging on. He still Believes. He tries to catch a lizard by the shoulder. One […]...