FLOWER-SALUTE

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1. We should not mind so small a flower We should not mind so small a flower Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again. So spicy her Carnations nod So drunken, reel her Bees So silver steal a hundred flutes From out a hundred trees That whoso sees this little flower By faith may clear behold […]...
2. THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWER SONG OF THE IMPRISONED COUNT. COUNT. I KNOW a flower of beauty rare, Ah, how I hold it dear! To seek it I would fain repair, Were I not prison’d here. My sorrow sore oppresses me, For when I was at liberty, I had it close beside me. Though from this castle’s walls so steep […]...
3. GANYMEDE How, in the light of morning, Round me thou glowest, Spring, thou beloved one! With thousand-varying loving bliss The sacred emotions Born of thy warmth eternal Press ‘gainst my bosom, Thou endlessly fair one! Could I but hold thee clasp’d Within mine arms! Ah! upon thy bosom Lay I, pining, And then thy flowers, thy […]...
4. THE SPIRIT'S SALUTE THE hero’s noble shade stands high On yonder turret grey; And as the ship is sailing by, He speeds it on his way. “See with what strength these sinews thrill’d! This heart, how firm and wild! These bones, what knightly marrow fill’d! This cup, how bright it smil’d! “Half of my life I strove and […]...
5. Flower God, God Of The Spring FLOWER god, god of the spring, beautiful, bountiful, Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles, Here I wander in April Cold, grey-headed; and still to my Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer, Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant; Spring, flower-planter in meadows, Child-conductor in willowy Fields deep dotted with bloom, daisies […]...
6. Salute Past is past, and if one Remembers what one meant To do and never did, is Not to have thought to do Enough? Like that gather- Ing of one each I Planned, to gather one Of each kind of clover, Daisy, paintbrush that Grew in that field The cabin stood in and Study them one […]...
7. 487. The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress SLEEP’ST thou, or wak’st thou, fairest creature? Rosy morn now lifts his eye, Numbering ilka bud which Nature Waters wi’ the tears o’ joy. Now, to the streaming fountain, Or up the heathy mountain, The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray; In twining hazel bowers, Its lay the linnet pours, The laverock to the […]...
8. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
9. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. Wind and Window Flower LOVERS, forget your love, And list to the love of these, She a window flower, And he a winter breeze. When the frosty window veil Was melted down at noon, And the cagèd yellow bird Hung over her in tune, He marked her through the pane, He could not help but mark, And only passed […]...
12. THE HAPPY COUPLE AFTER these vernal rains That we so warmly sought, Dear wife, see how our plains With blessings sweet are fraught! We cast our distant gaze Far in the misty blue; Here gentle love still strays, Here dwells still rapture true. Thou seest whither go Yon pair of pigeons white, Where swelling violets blow Round sunny […]...
13. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
14. My Hundred Books A thousand books my library Contains; And all are primed, it seems to me With brains. Mine are so few I scratch in thought My head; For just a hundred of the lot I’ve read. A hundred books, but of the best, I can With wisdom savour and digest And scan. Yet when afar from […]...
15. The Flower How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! ev’n as the flowers in spring; To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snows in May, As if there were no such cold thing. Who would have thought my shrivelled heart Could have recovered […]...
16. The Flower Boat The fisherman’s swapping a yarn for a yarn Under the hand of the village barber, And her in the angle of house and barn His deep-sea dory has found a harbor. At anchor she rides the sunny sod As full to the gunnel of flowers growing As ever she turned her home with cod From […]...
17. Five-Per-Cent Because I have ten thousand pounds I sit upon my stern, And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn. For in some procreative way that isn’t very clear, Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year. So as I have a healthy hate of economic strife, I mean to stand […]...
18. The Truth of Woman Woman’s faith, and woman’s trust – Write the characters in the dust; Stamp them on the running stream, Print them on the moon’s pale beam, And each evanescent letter Shall be clearer, firmer, better, And more permanent, I ween, Than the thing those letters mean. I have strain’d the spider’s thread ‘Gainst the promise of […]...
19. Eugene Carman Rhodes’ slave! Selling shoes and gingham, Flour and bacon, overalls, clothing, all day long For fourteen hours a day for three hundred and thirteen days For more than twenty years. Saying “Yes’m” and “Yes, sir”, and “Thank you” A thousand times a day, and all for fifty dollars a month. Living in this stinking room […]...
20. Chiang Chin Chiu See the waters of the Yellow River leap down from Heaven, Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again! See at the mirror In the High Hall Aged men bewailing white locks – In the morning, threads of silk, In the evening flakes of snow. Snatch the joys Of life as they come […]...
21. Fruit of the Flower My father is a quiet man With sober, steady ways; For simile, a folded fan; His nights are like his days. My mother’s life is puritan, No hint of cavalier, A pool so calm you’re sure it can Have little depth to fear. And yet my father’s eyes can boast How full his life has […]...
22. Always I am not jealous Of what came before me. Come with a man On your shoulders, Come with a hundred men in your hair, Come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet, Come like a river Full of drowned men Which flows down to the wild sea, To the eternal surf, to […]...
23. There is a flower that Bees prefer There is a flower that Bees prefer And Butterflies desire To gain the Purple Democrat The Humming Bird aspire And Whatsoever Insect pass A Honey bear away Proportioned to his several dearth And her capacity Her face be rounder than the Moon And ruddier than the Gown Or Orchis in the Pasture Or Rhododendron worn […]...
24. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
25. 531. Song-'Twas na her bonie blue e'e ‘TWAS na her bonie blue e’e was my ruin, Fair tho’ she be, that was ne’er my undoin’; ‘Twas the dear smile when nae body did mind us, ‘Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o’ kindness: ‘Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o’ kindness. Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me, Sair […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. The Flower of Liberty WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming band It kindles all the sunset land: Oh tell us what its name may be, Is this the Flower of Liberty? It is the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty! In savage […]...
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. Last Word To Childhood Ice-cold fear has slowly decreased As my bones have grown, my height increased. Though I shiver in snow of dreams, I shall never Freeze again in a noonday terror. I shall never break, my sinews crumble As God-the-headmaster’s fingers fumble At the other side of unopening doors Which I watch for a hundred thousand years. […]...
30. The Methodist Says Tom to Jack, ’tis very odd, These representatives of God, In color, way of life and evil, Should be so very like the devil. Jack, understand, was one of those, Who mould religion in the rose, A red hot methodist; his face Was full of puritanic grace, His loose lank hair, his slow gradation, […]...
31. WELCOME AND FAREWELL [Another of the love-songs addressed to Frederica.] QUICK throbb’d my heart: to norse! haste, haste, And lo! ’twas done with speed of light; The evening soon the world embraced, And o’er the mountains hung the night. Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak, A tow’ring giant in his size, Where darkness through the thicket […]...
32. The Meeting of the Waters There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Yet it was not that nature had shed o’er the scene Her purest […]...
33. 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 […]...
34. PREMATURE SPRING DAYS full of rapture, Are ye renew’d? Smile in the sunlight Mountain and wood? Streams richer laden Flow through the dale, Are these the meadows? Is this the vale? Coolness cerulean! Heaven and height! Fish crowd the ocean, Golden and bright. Birds of gay plumage Sport in the grove, Heavenly numbers Singing above. Under the […]...
35. Their Height in Heaven comforts not Their Height in Heaven comforts not Their Glory nought to me ‘Twas best imperfect as it was I’m finite I can’t see The House of Supposition The Glimmering Frontier that Skirts the Acres of Perhaps To Me shows insecure The Wealth I had contented me If ’twas a meaner size Then I had counted it […]...
36. Reliance Not to the swift, the race: Not to the strong, the fight: Not to the righteous, perfect grace: Not to the wise, the light. But often faltering feet Come surest to the goal; And they who walk in darkness meet The sunrise of the soul. A thousand times by night The Syrian hosts have died; […]...
37. Irreparableness I HAVE been in the meadows all the day And gathered there the nosegay that you see Singing within myself as bird or bee When such do field-work on a morn of May. But, now I look upon my flowers, decay Has met them in my hands more fatally Because more warmly clasped, and sobs […]...
38. From "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower&quot Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem- Save that it’s green and wooden- I come, my sweet, to sing to you. We lived long together a life filled, if you will, With flowers. So that I was cheered when I came first to know That there were flowers also in […]...
39. Graceland TOMB of a millionaire, A multi-millionaire, ladies and gentlemen, Place of the dead where they spend every year The usury of twenty-five thousand dollars For upkeep and flowers To keep fresh the memory of the dead. The merchant prince gone to dust Commanded in his written will Over the signed name of his last testament […]...
40. From the Bush The Channel fog has lifted – And see where we have come! Round all the world we’ve drifted, A hundred years from “home”. The fields our parents longed for – Ah! we shall ne’er know how – The wealth that they were wronged for We’ll see as strangers now! The Dover cliffs have passed on […]...