SPROUT

Related poetry:

1. Spring Nothing is so beautiful as spring- When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush The descending blue; that […]...
2. The Silent Ones I’m just an ordinary chap Who comes home to his tea, And mostly I don’t care a rap What people think of me; I do my job and take my pay, And love of peace expound; But as I go my patient way, Don’t push me round. Though I respect authority And order never flout, […]...
3. Lover's Gifts XLIII: Dying, You Have Left Behind Dying, you have left behind you the great sadness of the Eternal In my life. You have painted my thought’s horizon with the sunset Colours of your departure, leaving a track of tears across the Earth to love’s heaven. Clasped in your dear arms, life and death United in me in a marriage bond. I […]...
4. Whenever I Go There Whenever I go there everything is changed The stamps on the bandages the titles Of the professors of water The portrait of Glare the reasons for The white mourning In new rocks new insects are sitting With the lights off And once more I remember that the beginning Is broken No wonder the addresses are […]...
5. Thoughts of Li Po from the World's End Here at the world’s end the cold winds are beginning to blow. What messages Have you for me, my master? When will the poor wandering goose arrive? The Rivers and lakes are swollen with autumn’s waters. Art detests a too successful Life; and the hungry goblins await you with welcoming jaws. You had better have […]...
6. The Breast This is the key to it. This is the key to everything. Preciously. I am worse than the gamekeeper’s children Picking for dust and bread. Here I am drumming up perfume. Let me go down on your carpet, Your straw mattress whatever’s at hand Because the child in me is dying, dying. It is not […]...
7. The Man from Goondiwindi, Q I This is the sunburnt bushman who Came down from Goondiwindi, Q. II This is the Push from Waterloo That spotted the sunburnt bushman who Came down from Goondiwindi, Q. III These are the wealthy uncles two, Part of the Push from Waterloo That spotted the sunburnt bushman who Came down from Goondiwindi, Q. IV […]...
8. Ages and Ages, Returning at Intervals AGES and ages, returning at intervals, Undestroy’d, wandering immortal, Lusty, phallic, with the potent original loins, perfectly sweet, I, chanter of Adamic songs, Through the new garden, the West, the great cities calling, Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins....
9. Sonnet XII Like as a dryad, from her native bole Coming at dusk, when the dim stars emerge, To a slow river at whose silent verge Tall poplars tremble and deep grasses roll, Come thou no less and, kneeling in a shoal Of the freaked flag and meadow buttercup, Bend till thine image from the pool beam […]...
10. Unknown Bird Out of the dry days Through the dusty leaves Far across the valley Those few notes never Heard here before One fluted phrase Floating over its Wandering secret All at once wells up Somewhere else And is gone before it Goes on fallen into Its own echo leaving A hollow through the air That is […]...
11. 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. […]...
12. In the Valley of Cauteretz All along the valley, stream that flashest white, Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night, All along the valley, where thy waters flow, I walk’d with one I loved two and thirty years ago. All along the valley, while I walk’d to-day, The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away; […]...
13. The City Revisited The grey gulls drift across the bay Softly and still as flakes of snow Against the thinning fog. All day I sat and watched them come and go; And now at last the sun was set, Filling the waves with colored fire Till each seemed like a jewelled spire Thrust up from some drowned city. […]...
14. 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 […]...
15. Sestina: Here In Katmandu We have climbed the mountain. There’s nothing more to do. It is terrible to come down To the valley Where, amidst many flowers, One thinks of snow, As formerly, amidst snow, Climbing the mountain, One thought of flowers, Tremulous, ruddy with dew, In the valley. One caught their scent coming down. It is difficult to […]...
16. The Sonnets To Orpheus: IV O you tender ones, walk now and then Into the breath that blows coldly past, Upon your cheeks let it tremble and part; Behind you it will tremble together again. O you blessed ones, you who are whole, You who seem the beginning of hearts, Bows for the arrows and arrows’ targets Tear-bright, your lips […]...
17. In The Beginning In the beginning was the three-pointed star, One smile of light across the empty face, One bough of bone across the rooting air, The substance forked that marrowed the first sun, And, burning ciphers on the round of space, Heaven and hell mixed as they spun. In the beginning was the pale signature, Three-syllabled and […]...
18. O! Where Are You Going? O! What are you doing, And where are you going? Your ponies need shoeing! The River is flowing! O! Tra-la-la-lally Here down in the valley! O! What are you seeking, And where are you making? The faggots are reeking! The bannocks are baking! O! Tril-lil-lil-lolly The valley is jolly Ha ha! O! Where are you […]...
19. The Voiceless WE count the broken lyres that rest Where the sweet wailing singers slumber, But o’er their silent sister’s breast The wild-flowers who will stoop to number? A few can touch the magic string, And noisy Fame is proud to win them: Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them! […]...
20. His oriental heresies His oriental heresies Exhilarate the Bee, And filling all the Earth and Air With gay apostasy Fatigued at last, a Clover plain Allures his jaded eye That lowly Breast where Butterflies Have felt it meet to die...
21. When Cold December WHEN cold December Froze to grisamber The jangling bells on the sweet rose-trees Then fading slow And furred is the snow As the almond’s sweet husk And smelling like musk. The snow amygdaline Under the eglantine Where the bristling stars shine Like a gilt porcupine The snow confesses The little Princesses On their small chioppines […]...
22. City of Orgies CITY of orgies, walks and joys! City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day make you illustrious, Not the pageants of you-not your shifting tableaux, your spectacles, repay me; Not the interminable rows of your houses-nor the ships at the wharves, Nor the processions in the streets, nor the […]...
23. At the grave of Anastasia Baluk – Cross Stone Anastasia And the sad snow falling A toiling sky And a long white line of hills A distant birthplace Short span and early dying Pain from what heaven Sorrowed your slope of life? Through valley’s throat Run double veins of water Feverish river Somnolent canal – the vein of the metal rail And the trundling […]...
24. The Harvest Moon The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upward To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. The harvest moon has come, Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. And the earth replies all night, like a deep […]...
25. Summer has two Beginnings Summer has two Beginnings Beginning once in June Beginning in October Affectingly again Without, perhaps, the Riot But graphicker for Grace As finer is a going Than a remaining Face Departing then forever Forever until May Forever is deciduous Except to those who die...
26. Anthem The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what Has passed away Or what is yet to be. Ah the wars they will Be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again Bought and sold And bought again The dove is never free. […]...
27. In Lovers' Lane I know a place for loitering feet Deep in the valley where the breeze Makes melody in lichened boughs, And murmurs low love-litanies. There slender harebells nod and dream, And pale wild roses offer up The fragrance of their golden hearts, As from some incense-brimméd cup. It holds the sunshine sifted down Softly through many […]...
28. Valley Song YOUR eyes and the valley are memories. Your eyes fire and the valley a bowl. It was here a moonrise crept over the timberline. It was here we turned the coffee cups upside down. And your eyes and the moon swept the valley. I will see you again to-morrow. I will see you again in […]...
29. Men At Forty Men at forty Learn to close softly The doors to rooms they will not be Coming back to. At rest on a stair landing, They feel it Moving beneath them now like the deck of a ship, Though the swell is gentle. And deep in mirrors They rediscover The face of the boy as he […]...
30. Hymn 46 God’s condescension to human affairs. Up to the Lord, that reigns on high, And views the nations from afar, Let everlasting praises fly, And tell how large his bounties are. [He that can shake the worlds he made, Or with his word, or with his rod, His goodness, how amazing great! And what a condescending […]...
31. Psalm 124 A song for the fifth of November. Had not the Lord, may Isr’el say, Had not the Lord maintained our side, When men, to make our lives a prey, Rose like the swelling of the tide; The swelling tide had stopped our breath, So fiercely did the waters roll, We had been swallowed deep in […]...
32. Aubade As I would free the white almond from the green husk So would I strip your trappings off, Beloved. And fingering the smooth and polished kernel I should see that in my hands glittered a gem beyond counting....
33. THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT ON yonder lofty mountain A thousand times I stand, And on my staff reclining, Look down on the smiling land. My grazing flocks then I follow, My dog protecting them well; I find myself in the valley, But how, I scarcely can tell. The whole of the meadow is cover’d With flowers of beauty rare; […]...
34. The Clouds their Backs together laid The Clouds their Backs together laid The North begun to push The Forests galloped till they fell The Lightning played like mice The Thunder crumbled like a stuff How good to be in Tombs Where Nature’s Temper cannot reach Nor missile ever comes...
35. An Arab Shepherd Is Searching For His Goat On Mount Zion An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion And on the opposite hill I am searching for my little boy. An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father Both in their temporary failure. Our two voices met above The Sultan’s Pool in the valley between us. Neither of us wants the boy or […]...
36. Too cold is this Too cold is this To warm with Sun Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work Outstaring Masonry How went the Agile Kernel out Contusion of the Husk Nor Rip, nor wrinkle indicate But just an Asterisk....
37. Locked Doors For the angels who inhabit this town, Although their shape constantly changes, Each night we leave some cold potatoes And a bowl of milk on the windowsill. Usually they inhabit heaven where, By the way, no tears are allowed. They push the moon around like A boiled yam. The Milky Way is their hen With […]...
38. When the new year when the new year Came out of nowhere And peeped into rooms It was so flattered to find All the tv’s drinking its health Praising its innocent appearance It responded with its warm Dark smile and went round Filling people’s dry hearts With joy Over the coming weeks though Those same tv’s attacked it Criticising […]...
39. The Elephant Is Slow To Mate The elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; He finds a female, they show no haste they wait For the sympathy in their vast shy hearts slowly, slowly to rouse As they loiter along the river-beds and drink and browse And dash in panic through the brake of forest with the herd, And […]...
40. Survivor Everyday, I think about dying. About disease, starvation, Violence, terrorism, war, The end of the world. It helps Keep my mind off things....