Sheltered Garden

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1. About The Sheltered Garden Ground ABOUT the sheltered garden ground The trees stand strangely still. The vale ne’er seemed so deep before, Nor yet so high the hill. An awful sense of quietness, A fulness of repose, Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns, The silent garden rows. As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse Heard far across a plain, A […]...
2. Heat O wind, rend open the heat, Cut apart the heat, Rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop Through this thick air Fruit cannot fall into heat That presses up and blunts The points of pears And rounds the grapes. Cut the heat Plough through it, Turning it on either side Of your path....
3. The Garden of God WITHIN the iron cities One walked unknown for years, In his heart the pity of pities That grew for human tears. When love and grief were ended The flower of pity grew: By unseen hands ‘t was tended And fed with holy dew. Though in his heart were barred in The blooms of beauty blown, […]...
4. A Garden, Written after the Civil Wars SEE how the flowers, as at parade, Under their colours stand display’d: Each regiment in order grows, That of the tulip, pink, and rose. But when the vigilant patrol Of stars walks round about the pole, Their leaves, that to the stalks are curl’d, Seem to their staves the ensigns furl’d. Then in some flower’s […]...
5. Out in the Garden Out in the garden, Out in the windy, swinging dark, Under the trees and over the flower-beds, Over the grass and under the hedge border, Someone is sweeping, sweeping, Some old gardener. Out in the windy, swinging dark, Someone is secretly putting in order, Someone is creeping, creeping....
6. And Death Shall Have No Dominion And death shall have no dominion. Dead mean naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the […]...
7. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
8. Having Lost My Sons, I Confront The Wreckage Of The Moon: Christmas, 1960 After dark Near the South Dakota border, The moon is out hunting, everywhere, Delivering fire, And walking down hallways Of a diamond. Behind a tree, It ights on the ruins Of a white city Frost, frost. Where are they gone Who lived there? Bundled away under wings And dark faces. I am sick Of it, […]...
9. November Cotton Flower Boll-weevil’s coming, and the winter’s cold, Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old, And cotton, scarce as any southern snow, Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow, Failed in its function as the autumn rake; Drouth fighting soil had caused the soil to take All water from the streams; dead birds were found In wells […]...
10. On The Garden Wall Oh, once I walked a garden In dreams. ‘Twas yellow grass. And many orange-trees grew there In sand as white as glass. The curving, wide wall-border Was marble, like the snow. I walked that wall a fairy-prince And, pacing quaint and slow, Beside me were my pages, Two giant, friendly birds. Half swan they were, […]...
11. Nevertheless you’ve seen a strawberry That’s had a struggle; yet Was, where the fragments met, A hedgehog or a star- Fish for the multitude Of seeds. What better food Than apple seeds – the fruit Within the fruit – locked in Like counter-curved twin Hazelnuts? Frost that kills The little rubber-plant – Leaves of kok-sagyyz-stalks, can’t […]...
12. The Disciples “To Lionel Engers-Kennedy: to the memory of Hargrave Jennings: and To A. C. W. G. and H. E. H.” Beneath the vine tree and the fig Where mortal cares may not intrude, On melon and on sucking pig Although their brains are bright and big Banquet the Great White Brotherhood. Among the fountains and the […]...
13. The Garden How vainly men themselves amaze To win the Palm, the Oke, or Bayes; And their uncessant Labours see Crown’d from some single Herb or Tree, Whose short and narrow verged Shade Does prudently their Toyles upbraid; While all Flow’rs and all Trees do close To weave the Garlands of repose. Fair quiet, have I found […]...
14. In A Vacant House Someone was calling someone; Now they’ve stopped. Beyond the glass The rose vines quiver as in A light wind, but there is none: I hear nothing. The moments pass, Or seem to pass, and the sun, Risen above the old birch, Steadies for the downward arch. It is noon. Privacy is One thing, but to […]...
15. The Barberry Bush The bush that has most briers and bitter fruit, Wait till the frost has turned its green leaves red, Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit, And thou may’st find e’en there a homely bread. Upon the hills of Salem scattered wide, Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring; And straggling e’en upon the […]...
16. A Roxbury Garden I Hoops Blue and pink sashes, Criss-cross shoes, Minna and Stella run out into the garden To play at hoop. Up and down the garden-paths they race, In the yellow sunshine, Each with a big round hoop White as a stripped willow-wand. Round and round turn the hoops, Their diamond whiteness cleaving the yellow sunshine. […]...
17. A Forsaken Garden IN a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, At the sea-down’s edge between windward and lee, Walled round with rocks as an inland island, The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses The steep square slope of the blossomless bed Where the weeds that grew green […]...
18. Come and Play in the Garden Little sister, come away, And let us in the garden play, For it is a pleasant day. On the grass-plat let us sit, Or, if you please, we’ll play a bit, And run about all over it. But the fruit we will not pick, For that would be a naughty trick, And very likely make […]...
19. The Garden of Proserpine Here, where the world is quiet; Here, where all trouble seems Dead winds’ and spent waves’ riot In doubtful dreams of dreams; I watch the green field growing For reaping folk and sowing, For harvest-time and mowing, A sleepy world of streams. I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep; […]...
20. The Tropics in New York Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root, Cocoa in pods and alligator pears, And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit, Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs, Set in the window, bringing memories Of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills, And dewy dawns, and mystical blue skies In benediction over nun-like hills. My eyes grew dim, […]...
21. Poem Written At Morning A sunny day’s complete Poussiniana Divide it from itself. It is this or that And it is not. By metaphor you paint A thing. Thus, the pineapple was a leather fruit, A fruit for pewter, thorned and palmed and blue, To be served by men of ice. The senses paint By metaphor. The juice was […]...
22. Thoughts in a Garden HOW vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crown’d from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow-verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all the flowers and trees do close To weave the garlands of repose! Fair Quiet, have I found thee […]...
23. Poem (Remember midsummer: the fragrance of box) Remember midsummer: the fragrance of box, of white roses And of phlox. And upon a honeysuckle branch Three snails hanging with infinite delicacy Clinging like tendril, flake and thread, as self-tormented And self-delighted as any ballerina, just as in the orchard, Near the apple trees, in the over-grown grasses Drunken wasps clung to over-ripe pears […]...
24. A Tulip Garden Guarded within the old red wall’s embrace, Marshalled like soldiers in gay company, The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry Wheels out into the sunlight. What bold grace Sets off their tunics, white with crimson lace! Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry, With scarlet sabres tossing in the eye Of purple batteries, every gun in place. […]...
25. I haven't told my garden yet I haven’t told my garden yet Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee I will not name it in the street For shops would stare at me That one so shy so ignorant Should have the face to die. The hillsides must not know it […]...
26. For A Coming Extinction Gray whale Now that we are sinding you to The End That great god Tell him That we who follow you invented forgiveness And forgive nothing I write as though you could understand And I could say it One must always pretend something Among the dying When you have left the seas nodding on their […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
29. THE PEARL FISHERMAN This evening and part of the night I sank again into the dense sea Where we beings and things float. I descended for pearls to show to men Who fear even the risk of the border. This evening and part of the night I was amidst that silence, in that deepness Where the most infinite […]...
30. Come Into The Garden, Maud Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, Night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the roses blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint […]...
31. Noon I bend to the ground To catch Something whispered, Urgent, drifting Across the ditches. The heaviness of Flies stuttering In orbit, dirt Ripening, the sweat Of eggs. There are Small streams The width ofa thumb Running in the villages Of sheaves, whole Eras of grain Wakening on The stalks, a roof That breathes over My […]...
32. There was an old man on the Border There was an old man on the Border, Who lived in the utmost disorder; He danced with the cat, and made tea in his hat, Which vexed all the folks on the Border....
33. Far Rockaway “the cure of souls.” Henry James The radiant soda of the seashore fashions Fun, foam and freedom. The sea laves The Shaven sand. And the light sways forward On self-destroying waves. The rigor of the weekday is cast aside with shoes, With business suits and traffic’s motion; The lolling man lies with the passionate sun, […]...
34. Give Me Back My Rags #12 Enough chattering violets enough sweet trash I won’t hear anything know anything Enough enough of all I’ll say the last enough Fill my mouth with earth Grit my teeth To break off you skull guzzler To break off once for all I’ll just be what I am Without root without branch without crown I’ll lean […]...
35. Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone ROOTS and leaves themselves alone are these; Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods, and from the pond-side, Breast-sorrel and pinks of love-fingers that wind around tighter than vines, Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage of trees, as the sun is risen; Breezes of land and love-breezes set […]...
36. October O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts […]...
37. A Girl's Garden A NEIGHBOR of mine in the village Likes to tell how one spring When she was a girl on the farm, she did A childlike thing. One day she asked her father To give her a garden plot To plant and tend and reap herself, And he said, “Why not?” In casting about for a […]...
38. Ripe Fruit Through eyelet holes I watched the crowd Rain of confetti fling; Their joy is lush, their laughter loud, For Carnival is King. Behind his chariot I pace To ean my petty pay; They laugh to see my monster face: “Ripe Fruit,” I hear them say. I do not laugh: my shoulders sag; No heart have […]...
39. The Garden Of Eros It is full summer now, the heart of June; Not yet the sunburnt reapers are astir Upon the upland meadow where too soon Rich autumn time, the season’s usurer, Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees, And see his treasure scattered by the wild and spendthrift breeze. Too soon indeed! yet here the […]...
40. The Deserted Garden I mind me in the days departed, How often underneath the sun With childish bounds I used to run To a garden long deserted. The beds and walks were vanished quite; And wheresoe’er had struck the spade, The greenest grasses Nature laid To sanctify her right. I called the place my wilderness, For no one […]...