SOUND OF SLEAT

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1. The Sound of the Sea The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep, And round the pebbly beaches far and wide I heard the first wave of the rising tide Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep; A voice out of the silence of the deep, A sound mysteriously multiplied As of a cataract from the mountain’s side, Or roar of winds […]...
2. Long Island Sound I see it as it looked one afternoon In August,-by a fresh soft breeze o’erblown. The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon, A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon. The shining waters with pale currents strewn, The quiet fishing-smacks, the Eastern cove, The semi-circle of its dark, green grove. The luminous grasses, and […]...
3. Two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock Whose hands were drier than deserts The sea’s voice drove fear up through the valley The tributaries meandering inside me longing for outlet Shrivelled even as their own courses became straight My demand for ocean died now the ocean approached The clouds put […]...
4. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
5. It don't sound so terrible quite as it did It don’t sound so terrible quite as it did I run it over “Dead”, Brain, “Dead.” Put it in Latin left of my school Seems it don’t shriek so under rule. Turn it, a little full in the face A Trouble looks bitterest Shift it just Say “When Tomorrow comes this way I shall have […]...
6. TO THE SOUND OF VIOLINS Give me life at its most garish Friday night in the Square, pink sequins dazzle And dance on clubbers bare to the midriff Young men in crisp shirts and pressed pants ‘Dress code smart’ gyrate to ‘Sex Bomb, Sex Bomb’ And sing along its lyrics to the throng of which I’m one My shorts, shoulder […]...
7. To Live We both have our hands to give Take mine I shall lead you afar I have lived several times my face hasw changed With every threshold I have crossed and every hand clasped Familial springtime was reborn Keeping for itself and for me its perishable snow Death and the betrothed The future with five fingers […]...
8. 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 […]...
9. Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised: The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised; That being now with her huge brightness dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view; But looking still on her, I stand […]...
10. To the Tune Breeze soft, sun frail, spring still early. In a new lined dress my heart was refreshed, But when I rose from sleep I felt a chill. I put plum blossoms in my hair. Now they are withered. Where is my homeland? I forgot it only when drunk. The sandal wood incense burned out while I […]...
11. Shelley's Skylark (The neighbourhood of Leghorn: March) Somewhere afield here something lies In Earth’s oblivious eyeless trust That moved a poet to prophecies – A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust The dust of the lark that Shelley heard, And made immortal through times to be; – Though it only lived like another bird, And knew not its immortality. Lived its meek life; […]...
12. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain. . . It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls Down golden-windowed walls. We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain, We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while […]...
13. Three times we parted Breath and I Three times we parted Breath and I Three times He would not go But strove to stir the lifeless Fan The Waters strove to stay. Three Times the Billows tossed me up Then caught me like a Ball Then made Blue faces in my face And pushed away a sail That crawled Leagues off I […]...
14. To a Contemporary Bunkshooter YOU come along. . . tearing your shirt. . . yelling about Jesus. Where do you get that stuff? What do you know about Jesus? Jesus had a way of talking soft and outside of a few Bankers and higher-ups among the con men of Jerusalem Everybody liked to have this Jesus around because He […]...
15. The Sound of the Trees I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place? We suffer them by the day Till we lose all measure of pace, And fixity in our joys, And acquire a listening air. They are that that talks of […]...
16. The Demon In Me The demon in me’s not dead, He’s living, and well. In the body as in a hold, In the self as in a cell. The world is but walls. The exit’s the axe. (“All the world’s a stage,” The actor prates.) And that hobbling buffoon Is no joker; In the body as in glory, In […]...
17. Sound And Sense True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance. ‘Tis not enough no harshness gives offense, The sound must seem an echo to the sense: Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash […]...
18. Vision Of The Archangels, The Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world, Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky, Bearing, with quiet even steps, and great wings furled, A little dingy coffin; where a child must lie, It was so tiny. (Yet, you had fancied, God could never Have bidden a child turn from the spring […]...
19. A dull sound, varying now and again And then we began eating corn starch, Chalk chewed wet into sirup. We pilfered Argo boxes stored away to stiffen My white dress shirt, and my cousin And I played or watched TV, no longer annoyed By the din of never cooling afternoons. On the way home from church one fifth Sunday, Shirt outside my […]...
20. Unlike, For Example, The Sound Of A Riptooth Saw gnawing through a shinbone, a high howl Inside of which a bloody, slashed-by-growls note Is heard, unlike that Sound, and instead, its opposite: a barely sounded Sound (put your nuclear ears On for it, your giant hearing horn, its cornucopia mouth Wide) a slippery whoosh of rain Sliding down a mirror Leaned against a windfallen […]...
21. SOUND, SWEET SONG SOUND, sweet song, from some far land, Sighing softly close at hand, Now of joy, and now of woe! Stars are wont to glimmer so. Sooner thus will good unfold; Children young and children old Gladly hear thy numbers flow. 1820.* – * In the cases in which the date is marked thus (*), it […]...
22. Next Day Moving from Cheer to Joy, from Joy to All, I take a box And add it to my wild rice, my Cornish game hens. The slacked or shorted, basketed, identical Food-gathering flocks Are selves I overlook. Wisdom, said William James, Is learning what to overlook. And I am wise If that is wisdom. Yet somehow, […]...
23. 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 […]...
24. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm is the morn without a sound Calm is the morn without a sound, Calm as to suit a calmer grief, And only thro’ the faded leaf The chestnut pattering to the ground: Calm and deep peace on this high wold, And on these dews that drench the furze. And all the silvery gossamers That twinkle into green and gold: Calm and […]...
25. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. 1954 Then dirt scared me, because of the dirt He had put on her face. And her training bra Scared me-the newspapers, morning and evening, Kept saying it, training bra, As if the cups of it had been calling The breasts up-he buried her in it, Perhaps he had never bothered to take it Off. They […]...
28. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
29. I Sit and Think I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seen, Of meadow-flowers and butterflies In summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer In autumns that there were, With morning mist and silver sun And wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will […]...
30. When I Suspected There will be a time when it will end. Be it parting Be it death So each passing minute with you Pendulummed with sadness. So many times I looked long into your face. I could hear the clock ticking....
31. Like eyes that looked on Wastes Like eyes that looked on Wastes Incredulous of Ought But Blank and steady Wilderness Diversified by Night Just Infinites of Nought As far as it could see So looked the face I looked upon So looked itself on Me I offered it no Help Because the Cause was Mine The Misery a Compact As hopeless […]...
32. To A New England Poet Though skilled in Latin and in Greek, And earning fifty cents a week, Such knowledge, and the income, too, Should teach you better what to do: The meanest drudges, kept in pay, Can pocket fifty cents a day. Why stay in such a tasteless land, Where all must on a level stand, (Excepting people, at […]...
33. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
34. Ami Green Not “a youth with hoary head and haggard eye,” But an old man with a smooth skin And black hair! I had the face of a boy as long as I lived, And for years a soul that was stiff and bent, In a world which saw me just as a jest, To be hailed […]...
35. To a Stranger PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, […]...
36. The Sisters Look how the same possibilities Unfold in their opposite demeanors, As though one saw different ages Passing through two identical rooms. Each thinks that she props up the other, While resting wearily on her support; And they can’t make use of one another, For they cause blood to rest on blood, When as in the […]...
37. My Dog ‘Twas in a pub just off the Strand When I was in my cups, There passed a bloke with in his hand Two tiny puling pups; And one was on me with a bound, Seeking to lick my face, And so I bought him for a pound And took him to my place. Three acres […]...
38. The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
39. Sonnet XLIV: Whilst Thus My Pen Whilst thus my pen strives to eternize thee, Age rules my lines with wrinkles in my face, Where in the map of all my misery Is modell’d out the world of my disgrace. Whilst, in despite of tyrannizing times, Medea-like, I make thee young again, Proudly thou scorn’st my world-outwearing rhymes And murtherest virtue with […]...
40. The Earth God loafs around heaven, Without a shape But He would like to smoke His cigar Or bite His fingernails And so forth. God owns heaven But He craves the earth, The earth with its little sleepy caves, Its bird resting at the kitchen window, Even its murders lined up like broken chairs, Even its writers […]...