Twilight: After Haying

Related poetry:

1. 215. Song-Hey, the Dusty Miller HEY, the dusty Miller, And his dusty coat, He will win a shilling, Or he spend a groat: Dusty was the coat, Dusty was the colour, Dusty was the kiss That I gat frae the Miller. Hey, the dusty Miller, And his dusty sack; Leeze me on the calling Fills the dusty peck: Fills the […]...
2. Love in Twilight There is darkness behind the light and the pale light drips Cold on vague shapes and figures, that, half-seen loom Like the carven prows of proud, far-triumphing ships And the firelight wavers and changes about the room, As the three logs crackle and burn with a small still sound; Half-blotting with dark the deeper dark […]...
3. The Hour of Twilight WHEN the unquiet hours depart And far away their tumults cease, Within the twilight of the heart We bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day For angry deed or sin of sense Now is the star and homeward ray To us who bow in penitence. We kiss […]...
4. Into The Twilight Out-Worn heart, in a time out-worn, Come clear of the nets of wrong and right; Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight, Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn. Your mother Eire is aways young, Dew ever shining and twilight grey; Though hope fall from you and love decay, Burning in fires of […]...
5. Desert Places Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast In a field I looked into going past, And the ground almost covered smooth in snow, But a few weeds and stubble showing last. The woods around it have it-it is theirs. All animals are smothered in their lairs. I am too absent-spirited to count; The loneliness […]...
6. 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 […]...
7. To my dear Sister, Mrs. C. P. on her Nuptial We will not like those men our offerings pay Who crown the cup, then think they crown the day. We make no garlands, nor an altar build, Which help not Joy, but Ostentation yield. Where mirth is justly grounded these wild toyes Are but a troublesome, and empty noise. 2. But these shall be my […]...
8. A Field of Stubble, lying sere A Field of Stubble, lying sere Beneath the second Sun Its Toils to Brindled People thrust Its Triumphs to the Bin Accosted by a timid Bird Irresolute of Alms Is often seen but seldom felt, On our New England Farms...
9. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
10. Hemlock and Cedar THIN sheets of blue smoke among white slabs… near the shingle mill… winter morning. Falling of a dry leaf might be heard… circular steel tears through a log. Slope of woodland… brown… soft… tinge of blue such as pansy eyes. Farther, field fires… funnel of yellow smoke… spellings of other yellow in corn stubble. Bobsled […]...
11. Your Dad Did What? Where they have been, if they have been away, Or what they’ve done at home, if they have not – You make them write about the holiday. One writes My Dad did. What? Your Dad did what? That’s not a sentence. Never mind the bell. We stay behind until the work is done. You count […]...
12. Sorry There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey Down life’s way. And I seem to see more pathos in poor human Lives each day. I’m sorry for the strong brave men, who shield The weak from harm, But who, in their own troubled hours find no Protecting arm. I’m sorry for […]...
13. 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 […]...
14. Let Evening Come Let the light of late afternoon Shine through chinks in the barn, moving Up the bales as the sun moves down. Let the cricket take up chafing As a woman takes up her needles And her yarn. Let evening come. Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned In long grass. Let the stars appear And […]...
15. Twilight From vales of dawn hath Day pursued the Night Who mocking fled, swift-sandalled, to the west, Nor ever lingered in her wayward flight With dusk-eyed glance to recompense his quest, But over crocus hills and meadows gray Sped fleetly on her way. Now when the Day, shorn of his failing strength, Hath fallen spent before […]...
16. Twilight So Mary died last night! To-day The news has travelled here. And Robert died at Michaelmas, And Walter died last year. I went at sunset up the lane, I lingered by the stile; I saw the dusky fields that stretched Before me many a mile. I leaned against the stile, and thought Of her whose […]...
17. When Once The Twilight Locks No Longer When once the twilight locks no longer Locked in the long worm of my finger Nor damned the sea that sped about my fist, The mouth of time sucked, like a sponge, The milky acid on each hinge, And swallowed dry the waters of the breast. When the galactic sea was sucked And all the […]...
18. Tableau at Twilight I sit in the dusk. I am all alone. Enter a child and an ice-cream cone. A parent is easily beguiled By sight of this coniferous child. The friendly embers warmer gleam, The cone begins to drip ice cream. Cones are composed of many a vitamin. My lap is not the place to bitamin. Although […]...
19. Twilight in the Alps I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells Go chiming after her across the fair And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells, And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells Of peace are […]...
20. Twilight by the Cabin DUSK, a pearl-grey river, o’er Hill and vale puts out the day- What do you wonder at, asthore, What’s away in yonder grey? Dark the eyes that linger long- Dream-fed heart, awake, come in, Warm the hearth and gay the song: Love with tender words would win. Fades the eve in dreamy fire, But the […]...
21. The Twilight of Earth THE WONDER of the world is o’er: The magic from the sea is gone: There is no unimagined shore, No islet yet to venture on. The Sacred Hazels’ blooms are shed, The Nuts of Knowledge harvested. Oh, what is worth this lore of age If time shall never bring us back Our battle with the […]...
22. Conrad in Twilight Conrad, Conrad, aren’t you old To sit so late in your mouldy garden? And I think Conrad knows it well, Nursing his knees, too rheumy and cold To warm the wraith of a Forest of Arden. Neuralgia in the back of his neck, His lungs filling with such miasma, His feet dipping in leafage and […]...
23. Premonition At Twilight The magpie in the Joshua tree Has come to rest. Darkness collects, And what I cannot hear or see, Broken limbs, the curious bird, Become in darkness darkness too. I had been going when I heard The sound of something called the night; I had been going but I stopped To see the bird restrain […]...
24. The Twilight Turns The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green glow The trees of the avenue. The old piano plays an air, Sedate and slow and gay; She bends upon the yellow keys, Her head inclines this way. Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands That wander […]...
25. Shore Twilight Lo, find we here when the ripe day is o’er A kingdom of enchantment by the shore! Behold the sky with early stars ashine, A jewelled flagon brimmed with purple wine. Like a dumb poet’s soul the troubled sea Moans of its joy and sorrow wordlessly; But the glad winds that utter naught of grief […]...
26. Twilight Song Through the shine, through the rain We have shared the day’s load; To the old march again We have tramped the long road; We have laughed, we have cried, And we’ve tossed the King’s crown; We have fought, we have died, And we’ve trod the day down. So it’s lift the old song Ere the […]...
27. Brothers, let us glorify freedom's twilight Brothers, let us glorify freedom’s twilight – The great, darkening year. Into the seething waters of the night Heavy forests of nets disappear. O Sun, judge, people, your light Is rising over sombre years Let us glorify the deadly weight The people’s leader lifts with tears. Let us glorify the dark burden of fate, Power’s […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. The Bliss Of Ignorance When Jack took Nell into his arms He knew he acted ill, And thought as he enjoyed her charms Of his fiancée Jill. “Poor dear,” he sighed, “she dreams of me, I shouldn’t act like this; But after all, she cannot see, And ignorance is bliss.” Yet Jill at that same moment was In Fred’s […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. Journey Ah, could I lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me-I am so tired, so tired Of passing pleasant places! All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back at loveliness and sighed; Yet at my hand an unrelenting hand […]...
32. Summer In The Country One shows me how to lie down in a field of clover. Another how to slip my hand under her Sunday skirt. Another how to kiss with a mouth full of blackberries. Another how to catch fireflies in jar after dark. Here is a stable with a single black mare And the proof of God’s […]...
33. Barter Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things; Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children’s faces looking up, Holding wonder like a cup. Life has loveliness to sell; Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms […]...
34. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
35. Good Friday 2001, Riding North Yellow makes a play for green among The rows of some poor farmer’s field outside The Memphis city limits’ northern edge. A D. J. plays The Day He Wore My Crown, Not knowing it entices into tears This woman never once disposed to travel The holiday before. My children squander Unleavened bread brought forth from […]...
36. Not with a Club, the Heart is broken Not with a Club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone A Whip so small you could not see it I’ve known To lash the Magic Creature Till it fell, Yet that Whip’s Name Too noble then to tell. Magnanimous as Bird By Boy descried Singing unto the Stone Of which it died Shame […]...
37. River Moons THE DOUBLE moon, one on the high back drop of the west, one on the curve of the river face, The sky moon of fire and the river moon of water, I am taking these home in a basket, hung on an elbow, such a teeny weeny elbow, in my head. I saw them last […]...
38. Alone And Drinking Under The Moon Amongst the flowers I Am alone with my pot of wine Drinking by myself; then lifting My cup I asked the moon To drink with me, its reflection And mine in the wine cup, just The three of us; then I sigh For the moon cannot drink, And my shadow goes emptily along With me […]...
39. On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand has Passed On fields o’er which the reaper’s hand has pass’d Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun, My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind And of such fineness as October airs, There after harvest could I glean my life A richer harvest reaping without toil, And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will In subtler […]...
40. No ladder needs the bird but skies No ladder needs the bird but skies To situate its wings, Nor any leader’s grim baton Arraigns it as it sings. The implements of bliss are few As Jesus says of Him, “Come unto me” the moiety That wafts the cherubim....