A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight

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2. Two Sonnets In Memory (Nicola Sacco Bartolomeo Vanzetti) Executed August 23, 1927 I As men have loved their lovers in times past And sung their wit, their virtue and their grace, So have we loved sweet Justice to the last, That now lies here in an unseemly place. The child will quit the cradle and grow wise And stare […]...
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8. A Hand-Mirror HOLD it up sternly! See this it sends back! (Who is it? Is it you?) Outside fair costume-within ashes and filth, No more a flashing eye-no more a sonorous voice or springy step; Now some slave’s eye, voice, hands, step, A drunkard’s breath, unwholesome eater’s face, venerealee’s flesh, Lungs rotting away piecemeal, stomach sour and […]...
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10. Unknown Girl In A Maternity Ward Child, the current of your breath is six days long. You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed; Lie, fisted like a snail, so small and strong At my breast. Your lips are animals; you are fed With love. At first hunger is not wrong. The nurses nod their caps; you are shepherded Down […]...
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15. Infelice Walking swiftly with a dreadful duchess, He smiled too briefly, his face was pale as sand, He jumped into a taxi when he saw me coming, Leaving my alone with a private meaning, He loves me so much, my heart is singing. Later at the Club when I rang him in the evening They said: […]...
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17. The Lady Visitor in the Pauper Ward Why do you break upon this old, cool peace, This painted peace of ours, With harsh dress hissing like a flock of geese, With garish flowers? Why do you churn smooth waters rough again, Selfish old skin-and-bone? Leave us to quiet dreaming and slow pain, Leave us alone....
18. A Midnight Meditation HOW often have I said, “We may not grieve for the immortal dead.” And now, poor blenchèd heart, Thy ruddy hues all tremulous depart. Why be with fate at strife Because one passes on from death to life, Who may no more delay Rapt from our strange and pitiful dream away By one with ancient […]...
19. The Other Side of a Mirror I sat before my glass one day, And conjured up a vision bare, Unlike the aspects glad and gay, That erst were found reflected there – The vision of a woman, wild With more than womanly despair. Her hair stood back on either side A face bereft of loveliness. It had no envy now to […]...
20. Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow’r, Whose spicy blossoms once perfum’d the gale; So press’d with tears reclines yon lily pale, Obedient to the rude and beating show’r. Still is the LARK, that hov’ring o’er yon spray, With jocund carol usher’d in the morn; And mute the NIGHTINGALE, whose tender lay Melted the […]...
21. The Princess: A Medley: As thro' the land As thro’ the land at eve we went, And pluck’d the ripen’d ears, We fell out, my wife and I, O we fell out I know not why, And kiss’d again with tears. And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again […]...
22. The Poplar Why do you always stand there shivering Between the white stream and the road? The people pass through the dust On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars; The waggoners go by at down; The lovers walk on the grass path at night. Stir from your roots, walk, poplar! You are more beautiful than they are. I […]...
23. Players Ask For A Blessing On The Psalteries And On Themselves Three Voices [together]. Hurry to bless the hands that play, The mouths that speak, the notes and strings, O masters of the glittering town! O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, Though drunken with the flags that sway Over the ramparts and the towers, And with the waving of your wings. First Voice. Maybe they linger […]...
24. Dead Love Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark, White as a dead stark-stricken dove: None that pass by him pause to mark Dead love. His heart, that strained and yearned and strove As toward the sundawn strives the lark, Is cold as all the old joy thereof. Dead men, re-risen from dust, may hark When rings […]...
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26. In Memory I Serene and beautiful and very wise, Most erudite in curious Grecian lore, You lay and read your learned books, and bore A weight of unshed tears and silent sighs. The song within your heart could never rise Until love bade it spread its wings and soar. Nor could you look on Beauty’s face before […]...
27. Threnody Lilacs blossom just as sweet Now my heart is shattered. If I bowled it down the street, Who’s to say it mattered? If there’s one that rode away What would I be missing? Lips that taste of tears, they say, Are the best for kissing. Eyes that watch the morning star Seem a little brighter; […]...
28. Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as though to protect What it advertises. A few leaded panes, old beams, Fur, pleated muslin, a coral ring run together In a movement supporting the face, which swims Toward and away like the hand Except […]...
29. Song VII: Dawn Talks to Day Dawn talks to Day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet And with dreams thine eyes glistening, Thy still lips are sweet Though the world is a-listening. O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting, Cast thine arms round about me to stay my […]...
30. The Gardener LXXV: At Midnight At midnight the would-be ascetic Announced: “This is the time to give up my Home and seek for God. Ah, who has Held me so long in delusion here?” God whispered, “I,” but the ears Of the man were stopped. With a baby asleep at her breast Lay his wife, peacefully sleeping on One side […]...
31. Round About Midnight Jazz radio on a midnight kick, Round about Midnight. Sitting on the bed, With a jazz type chick Round about Midnight, Piano laughter, in my ears, Round about Midnight. Stirring up laughter, dying tears, Round about Midnight. Soft blue voices, muted grins, Excited voices, Father’s sins, Round about Midnight. Come on baby, take off your […]...
32. Song (Sylvia The Fair, In The Bloom Of Fifteen) Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of fifteen, Felt an innocent warmth as she lay on the green: She had heard of a pleasure, and something she guessed By the towsing and tumbling and touching her breast: She saw the men eager, but was at a loss What they meant by their sighing and kissing […]...
33. The Rose of Midnight THE moon is now an opening flower, The sky a cliff of blue. The moon is now a silver rose; Her pollen is the dew. Her pollen is the mist that swings Across her face of dreams: Her pollen is the April rain, Filling the April streams. Her pollen is eternal life, Endless ambrosial foam. […]...
34. The Faces of Memory DREAM faces bloom around your face Like flowers upon one stem; The heart of many a vanished race Sighs as I look on them. The sun rich face of Egypt glows, The eyes of Eire brood, With whom the golden Cyprian shows In lovely sisterhood. Your tree of life put forth these flowers In ages […]...
35. The Old Prison The rows of cells are unroofed, A flute for the wind’s mouth, Who comes with a breath of ice From the blue caves of the south. O dark and fierce day: The wind like an angry bee Hunts for the black honey In the pits of the hollow sea. Waves of shadow wash The empty […]...
36. An Arab Love-Song The hunchèd camels of the night Trouble the bright And silver waters of the moon. The Maiden of the Morn will soon Through Heaven stray and sing, Star gathering. Now while the dark about our loves is strewn, Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come! And night will catch her breath up, […]...
37. Midnight Speak to me, aching heart: what Ridiculous errand are you inventing for yourself Weeping in the dark garage With your sack of garbage: it is not your job To take out the garbage, it is your job To empty the dishwasher. You are showing off Again, Exactly as you did in childhood where Is your […]...
38. Irony An arid daylight shines along the beach Dried to a grey monotony of tone, And stranded jelly-fish melt soft upon The sun-baked pebbles, far beyond their reach Sparkles a wet, reviving sea. Here bleach The skeletons of fishes, every bone Polished and stark, like traceries of stone, The joints and knuckles hardened each to each. […]...
39. The Fury Of Beautiful Bones Sing me a thrush, bone. Sing me a nest of cup and pestle. Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather. Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love. Oh sing, bone bag man, sing. Your head is what I remember that Augusty You were in love with another woman but […]...
40. Only A Boche We brought him in from between the lines: we’d better have let him lie; For what’s the use of risking one’s skin for a tyke that’s going to die? What’s the use of tearing him loose under a gruelling fire, When he’s shot in the head, and worse than dead, and all messed up on […]...