The Oldest Drama

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1. PAULO POST FUTURI WEEP ye not, ye children dear, That as yet ye are unborn: For each sorrow and each tear Makes the father’s heart to mourn. Patient be a short time to it, Unproduced, and known to none; If your father cannot do it, By your mother ’twill be done. 1784....
2. Recollection THROUGH the blue shadowy valley I hastened in a dream: Flower rich the night, flower soft the air, a blue flower the stream I hurried over before I came to the cabin door, Where the orange flame-glow danced within on the beaten floor. And the lovely mother who drooped by the sleeping child arose: And […]...
3. The Oldest Child The night still frightens you. You know it is interminable And of vast, unimaginable dimensions. “That’s because His insomnia is permanent,” You’ve read some mystic say. Is it the point of His schoolboy’s compass That pricks your heart? Somewhere perhaps the lovers lie Under the dark cypress trees, Trembling with happiness, But here there’s only […]...
4. God Gave To Me A Child In Part GOD gave to me a child in part, Yet wholly gave the father’s heart: Child of my soul, O whither now, Unborn, unmothered, goest thou? You came, you went, and no man wist; Hapless, my child, no breast you kist; On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb, Nor knew the kindly feel of home. […]...
5. Ordeal LOVE and pity are pleading with me this hour. What is this voice that stays me forbidding to yield, Offering beauty, love, and immortal power, Æons away in some far-off heavenly field? Though I obey thee, Immortal, my heart is sore. Though love be withdrawn for love it bitterly grieves: Pity withheld in the breast […]...
6. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
7. Sorrow SORROW, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow. One thought lies close in her heart gnawn thorough With pain, a weed in a dried-up river, A rust-red share in an empty furrow. Hearts that strain at her chain would sever The […]...
8. The Proud Poet (For Shaemas O Sheel) One winter night a Devil came and sat upon my bed, His eyes were full of laughter for his heart was full of crime. “Why don’t you take up fancy work, or embroidery?” he said, “For a needle is as manly a tool as a pen that makes a rhyme!” “You […]...
9. Mary McNeely Passer-by, To love is to find your own soul Through the soul of the beloved one. When the beloved one withdraws itself from your soul Then you have lost your soul. It is written: “I have a friend, But my sorrow has no friend.” Hence my long years of solitude at the home of my […]...
10. Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play; Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow: And some are sung, and that was yesterday, And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow. Go forth; and if it be o’er stony way, Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow: And it was […]...
11. 420. Lines of John M'Murdo, Esq BLEST be M’Murdo to his latest day! No envious cloud o’ercast his evening ray; No wrinkle, furrow’d by the hand of care, Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair! O may no son the father’s honour stain, Nor ever daughter give the mother pain!...
12. Mengcheng Col New house Mengcheng entrance Old tree surplus sorrow willow Come person again for who Only sorrow former person be Who will come after, I do not know, He must feel sorrow for those in the past....
13. Keats The melancholy gift Aurora gained From Jove, that her sad lover should not see The face of death, no goddess asked for thee, My Keats! But when the crimson blood-drop stained Thy pillow, thou didst read the fate ordained, Brief life, wild love, a flight of poesy! And then, a shadow fell on Italy: Thy […]...
14. To My Mother Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of “Mother,” Therefore by that dear name I long have called you- You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death […]...
15. Psalm 38 Guilt of conscience and relief Amidst thy wrath remember love, Restore thy servant, Lord; Nor let a Father’s chast’ning prove Like an avenger’s sword. Thine arrows stick within my heart, My flesh is sorely pressed; Between the sorrow and the smart, My spirit finds no rest. My sins a heavy load appear, And o’er my […]...
16. Drama's Vitallest Expression is the Common Day Drama’s Vitallest Expression is the Common Day That arise and set about Us Other Tragedy Perish in the Recitation This the best enact When the Audience is scattered And the Boxes shut “Hamlet” to Himself were Hamlet Had not Shakespeare wrote Though the “Romeo” left no Record Of his Juliet, It were infinite enacted In […]...
17. I’m A Fool To Love You Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman, Some type of supernatural creature. My mother would tell you, if she could, About her life with my father, A strange and sometimes cruel gentleman. She would tell you about the choices A young black woman faces. Is falling in love with some man A […]...
18. The adventures (from frederick and the enchantress – dance drama) (i) introduction his home in ruins his parents gone frederick seeks to reclaim his throne to the golden mountain he sets his path the enchantress listening schemes with wrath four desperate trials which she takes from store to silence frederick for ever more (ii) the mist softly mist suppress all sight swirling stealthily as night […]...
19. Only a Curl I. FRIENDS of faces unknown and a land Unvisited over the sea, Who tell me how lonely you stand With a single gold curl in the hand Held up to be looked at by me, II. While you ask me to ponder and say What a father and mother can do, With the bright fellow-locks […]...
20. Domestic Scene The meal was o’er, the lamp was lit, The family sat in its glow; The Mother never ceased to knit, The Daughter never slacked to sew; The Father read his evening news, The Son was playing solitaire: If peace a happy home could choose I’m sure you’d swear that it was there. BUT The Mother: […]...
21. Jack Honest, or the Widow and Her Son Jack Honest was only eight years of age when his father died, And by the death of his father, Mrs Honest was sorely tried; And Jack was his father’s only joy and pride, And for honesty Jack couldn’t be equalled in the country-side. So a short time before Jack’s father died, ‘Twas loud and bitterly […]...
22. On The Death Of Dr. Samuel Marshall THROUGH thickest glooms look back, immortal Shade, On that confusion which thy death has made: Or from Olympus’ height look down, and see A Town involv’d in grief bereft of thee. Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead, And rends the graceful tresses from her head, Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest […]...
23. The Second Oldest Story Go I must along my ways Though my heart be ragged, Dripping bitter through the days, Festering, and jagged. Smile I must at every twinge, Kiss, to time its throbbing; He that tears a heart to fringe Hates the noise of sobbing. Weep, my love, till Heaven hears; Curse and moan and languish. While I […]...
24. In the Black Forest I lay beneath the pine trees, And looked aloft, where, through The dusky, clustered tree-tops, Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue. I shut my eyes, and a fancy Fluttered my sense around: “I lie here dead and buried, And this is churchyard ground. “I am at rest for ever; Ended the stress and strife.” Straight […]...
25. Tic Douloureux The trigger is sensation. The violin’s a dirty animal. I want you to take away the suddenness. Pain up the side of my head. I’ll have my teeth extracted one by one. See if it makes any difference. Rehearse for the real. Be either present or absent. I’ll let my fingers drum ebony. Thinking makes […]...
26. Mother's Loss If I could clasp my little babe Upon my breast to-night, I would not mind the blowing wind That shrieketh in affright. Oh, my lost babe! my little babe, My babe with dreamful eyes; Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold Shrieks woeful lullabies. My breast is softer than the sod; This room, with […]...
27. Yesterday I’ve trod the links with many a man, And played him club for club; ‘Tis scarce a year since I began And I am still a dub. But this I’ve noticed as we strayed Along the bunkered way, No one with me has ever played As he did yesterday. It makes no difference what the […]...
28. Father My father knows the proper way The nation should be run; He tells us children every day Just what should now be done. He knows the way to fix the trusts, He has a simple plan; But if the furnace needs repairs, We have to hire a man. My father, in a day or two […]...
29. The Oldest Song “These were never your true love’s eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies, And the wide calm brows above them! This was never your true love’s speech. Why do you thrill when you hear it? You that have ridden out of its reach The width of the […]...
30. Ape You haven’t finished your ape, said mother to father, Who had monkey hair and blood on his whiskers. I’ve had enough monkey, cried father. You didn’t eat the hands, and I went to all the Trouble to make onion rings for its fingers, said mother. I’ll just nibble on its forehead, and then I’ve had […]...
31. The Lost Pilot for my father, 1922-1944 Your face did not rot Like the others the co-pilot, For example, I saw him Yesterday. His face is corn- Mush: his wife and daughter, The poor ignorant people, stare As if he will compose soon. He was more wronged than Job. But your face did not rot Like the others […]...
32. Hymn 131 The Pharisee and publican. Luke 18:10ff. Saints, at your heav’nly Father’s word Give up your comforts to the Lord; Behold how sinners disagree, The publican and Pharisee! One doth his righteousness proclaim, The other owns his guilt and shame. This man at humble distance stands, And cries for grace with lifted hands That boldly rises […]...
33. A Book Full of Pictures Father studied theology through the mail And this was exam time. Mother knitted. I sat quietly with a book Full of pictures. Night fell. My hands grew cold touching the faces Of dead kings and queens. There was a black raincoat in the upstairs bedroom Swaying from the ceiling, But what was it doing there? […]...
34. Daylight and Moonlight In broad daylight, and at noon, Yesterday I saw the moon Sailing high, but faint and white, As a schoolboy’s paper kite. In broad daylight, yesterday, I read a poet’s mystic lay; And it seemed to me at most As a phantom, or a ghost. But at length the feverish day Like a passion died […]...
35. On Anothers Sorrow Can I see anothers woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see anothers grief, And not seek for kind relief. Can I see a falling tear. And not feel my sorrows share, Can a father see his child, Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d. Can a mother sit and hear. An infant groan […]...
36. The Czar’s Last Christmas Letter: A Barn in the Urals You were never told, Mother, how old Illyawas drunk That last holiday, for five days and nights He stumbled through Petersburg forming A choir of mutes, he dressed them in pink ascension gowns And, then, sold Father’s Tirietz stallion so to rent A hall for his Christmas recital: the audience Was rowdy but Illya in […]...
37. The Gift of the Sea The dead child lay in the shroud, And the widow watched beside; And her mother slept, and the Channel swept The gale in the teeth of the tide. But the mother laughed at all. “I have lost my man in the sea, And the child is dead. Be still,” she said, “What more can ye […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. In Response To A Rumor That The Oldest Whorehouse In Wheeling, West Virginia, Has Been Condemned I will grieve alone, As I strolled alone, years ago, down along The Ohio shore. I hid in the hobo jungle weeds Upstream from the sewer main, Pondering, gazing. I saw, down river, At Twenty-third and Water Streets By the vinegar works, The doors open in early evening. Swinging their purses, the women Poured down […]...
40. The Having To Love Something Else There was a man who would marry his mother, and asked his Father for his mother’s hand in marriage, and was told he could Not marry his mother’s hand because it was attached to all The rest of mother, which was all married to his father; that He’d have to love something else. . . […]...