Sonnet 15

Related poetry:

1. A Cradle Song Sweet dreams form a shade, O’er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy silent moony beams Sweet sleep with soft down. Weave thy brows an infant crown. Sweet sleep Angel mild, Hover o’er my happy child. Sweet smiles in the night, Hover over my delight. Sweet smiles Mothers smiles, All the […]...
2. Sonnet 12 XII. On the same. I did but prompt the age to quit their cloggs By the known rules of antient libertie, When strait a barbarous noise environs me Of Owles and Cuckoes, Asses, Apes and Doggs. As when those Hinds that were transform’d to Froggs Raild at Latona’s twin-born progenie Which after held the Sun […]...
3. Farewell to Barn and Stack and Tree “Farewell to barn and stack and tree, Farewell to Severn shore. Terence, look your last at me, For I come home no more. “The sun burns on the half-mown hill, By now the blood is dried; And Maurice amongst the hay lies still And my knife is in his side. “My mother thinks us long […]...
4. Sonnet: Languid, And Sad, And Slow, From Day To Day Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue) The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away. So fares it with the children of the earth: For when life’s goodly prospect opens round, Their spirits beat to tread […]...
5. Prayers After World War WANDERING oversea dreamer, Hunting and hoarse, Oh daughter and mother, Oh daughter of ashes and mother of blood, Child of the hair let down, and tears, Child of the cross in the south And the star in the north, Keeper of Egypt and Russia and France, Keeper of England and Poland and Spain, Make us […]...
6. Bourne When the Cherry Rustles above her head She hardly realizes Why she leaves Her clothes on the rocks, Passes a hand absently Through water As if smoothing An infant’s forehead. Instead she takes the fruit Pressed into her hand And watches the bloody stone Wet her fingers. Wasn’t sweetness always A symbol for their falling. […]...
7. Lullaby My mother’s an expert in one thing: Sending people she loves into the other world. The little ones, the babies these She rocks, whispering or singing quietly. I can’t say What she did for my father; Whatever it was, I’m sure it was right. It’s the same thing, really, preparing a person For sleep, for […]...
8. Hymn 35 Praise to God for creation and redemption. Let them neglect thy glory, Lord, Who never knew thy grace; But our loud songs shall still record The wonders of thy praise. We raise our shouts, O God, to thee, And send them to thy throne; All glory to th’ united Three, The undivided One. ‘Twas he […]...
9. Goodbye To The Poetry Of Calcium Dark cypresses The world is uneasily happy; It will all be forgotten. Theodore Storm Mother of roots, you have not seeded The tall ashes of loneliness For me. Therefore, Now I go. If I knew the name, Your name, all trellises of vineyards and old fire Would quicken to shake terribly my Earth, mother of […]...
10. The Angel's Kiss An angel stood beside the bed Where lay the living and the dead. He gave the mother her who died A kiss that Christ the Crucified Had sent to greet the weary soul When, worn and faint, it reached its goal. He gave the infant kisses twain, One on the breast, one on the brain. […]...
11. Sonnet XXXI Ah why hath nature to so hard a hart, Giuen so goodly giftes of beauties grace? Whose pryde depraues each other better part, And all those pretious ornaments deface. Sith to all other beastes of bloody race, A dreadfull countenaunce she giuen hath: That with theyr terrour al the rest may chace, And warne to […]...
12. Grass The living room is overgrown with grass. It has Come up around the furniture. It stretches through The dining room, past the swinging door into the Kitchen. It extends for miles and miles into the Walls. . . There’s treasure in grass, things dropped or put There; a stick of rust that was once a […]...
13. Sonnet CXLIII Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch One of her feather’d creatures broke away, Sets down her babe and makes an swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent To follow that which flies […]...
14. Sonnet 143: Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catch Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catch One of her feathered creatures broke away, Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent To follow that which flies […]...
15. Our Hills Dear Mother-Earth Of Titan birth, Yon hills are your large breasts, and often I Have climbed to their top-nipples, fain and dry To drink my mother’s-milk so near the sky. O ye hill-stains, Red, for all rains! The blood that made you has all bled for us, The hearts that paid you are all dead […]...
16. VI. Evening, as slow thy placid shades descend EVENING, as slow thy placid shades descend, Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still, The lonely battlement, and farthest hill And wood; I think of those that have no friend; Who now perhaps, by melancholy led, From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts, Retiring, wander ‘mid thy lonely haunts Unseen; and mark the […]...
17. Fields of Soria Hills of silver plate, Grey heights, dark red rocks Through which the Duero bends Its crossbow arc Round Soria, shadowed oaks, Stone dry-lands, naked mountains, White roads and river poplars, Twilights of Soria, warlike and mystical, Today I feel, for you, In my hearts depths, sadness, Sadness of love! Fields of Soria, Where it seems […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. Sonnet XLV: Muses, Which Sadly Sit Muses, which sadly sit about my chair, Drown’d in the tears extorted by my lines, With heavy sighs whilst thus I break the air, Painting my passions in these sad designs, Since she disdains to bless my happy verse, The strong-built trophies to her living fame, Ever henceforth my bosom be your hearse, Wherein the […]...
20. My Vision Wherever my feet may wander Wherever I chance to be, There comes, with the coming of even’ time A vision sweet to me. I see my mother sitting In the old familiar place, And she rocks to the tune her needles sing, And thinks of an absent face. I can hear the roar of the […]...
21. Mourning Alas my brother! the cry of the mourners of old That cried on each other, All crying aloud on the dead as the death-note rolled, Alas my brother! As flashes of dawn that mists from an east wind smother With fold upon fold, The past years gleam that linked us one with another. Time sunders […]...
22. Sonnet VIII: Why, Through Each Aching Vein Why, through each aching vein, with lazy pace Thus steals the languid fountain of my heart, While, from its source, each wild convulsive start Tears the scorch’d roses from my burning face? In vain, O Lesbian Vales! your charms I trace; Vain is the poet’s theme, the sculptor’s art; No more the Lyre its magic […]...
23. Friendship After Love After the fierce midsummer all ablaze Has burned itself to ashes, and expires In the intensity of its own fires, There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze. So after Love has led us, till he tires Of his own throes, and torments, and desires, […]...
24. The Floods The rain it rains without a stay In the hills above us, in the hills; And presently the floods break way Whose strength is in the hills. The trees they suck from every cloud, The valley brooks they roar aloud Bank-high for the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills! The first wood down is sere […]...
25. Lightly Come or Lightly Go Lightly come or lightly go: Though thy heart presage thee woe, Vales and many a wasted sun, Oread let thy laughter run, Till the irreverent mountain air Ripple all thy flying hair. Lightly, lightly – ever so: Clouds that wrap the vales below At the hour of evenstar Lowliest attendants are; Love and laughter song-confessed […]...
26. Hymn 121 Children devoted to God. [For those who practise infant Baptism.] Gen. 17:7,10; Acts 16:14,15,33. Thus saith the mercy of the Lord, “I’ll be a God to thee; I’ll bless thy num’rous race, and they Shall be a seed for me.” Abram believed the promised grace, And gave his sons to God; But water seals the […]...
27. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, yet we Trust that somehow Goo Oh, yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final end of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy’d, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete; […]...
28. The Iron Bridge I am standing on a disused iron bridge That was erected in 1902, According to the iron plaque bolted into a beam, The year my mother turned one. Imagine a mother in her infancy, And she was a Canadian infant at that, One of the great infants of the province of Ontario. But here I […]...
29. Amor Intellectualis Oft have we trod the vales of Castaly And heard sweet notes of sylvan music blown From antique reeds to common folk unknown: And often launched our bark upon that sea Which the nine Muses hold in empery, And ploughed free furrows through the wave and foam, Nor spread reluctant sail for more safe home […]...
30. The Age My age, my beast, is there anyone Who can peer into your eyes And with his own blood fuse Two centuries’ worth of vertebrae? The creating blood gushes From the throat of earthly things, And the parasite just trembles On the threshold of new days. While the creature still has life, The spine must be […]...
31. In Snow O English mother, in the ruddy glow Hugging your baby closer when outside You see the silent, soft, and cruel snow Falling again, and think what ills betide Unshelter’d creatures, your sad thoughts may go Where War and Winter now, two spectre-wolves, Hunt in the freezing vapour that involves Those Asian peaks of ice and […]...
32. VII. At a Village in Scotland O NORTH! as thy romantic vales I leave, And bid farewell to each retiring hill, Where thoughtful fancy seems to linger still, Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve That mingled with the toiling croud, no more I shall return, your varied views to mark, Of rocks winding wild, and mountains hoar, Or castle […]...
33. The Bandaged Shoulder He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen. But there was probably another reason For the wounded and bandaged shoulder. With a somewhat abrupt movement, To bring down from a shelf some Photographs that he wanted to see closely, The bandage was untied and a little blood ran. […]...
34. Sonnet 05 – I lift my heavy heart up solemnly I lift my heavy heart up solemnly, As once Electra her sepulchral urn, And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see What a great heap of grief lay hid in me, And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scorn […]...
35. Theoden's Fall We heard of the horns in the hills ringing, The swords shining in the South-kingdom. Steeds went striding to the stoning land As wind in the morning. War was kindled. There Theoden fell, Thengling mighty, To his golden halls and green pastures In the Northern fields never returning, High lord of the host. Harding and […]...
36. Story Tired of a landscape known too well when young: The deliberate shallow hills, the boring birds Flying past rocks; tired of remembering The village children and their naughty words, He abandoned his small holding and went South, Recognised at once his wished-for lie In the inhabitants’ attractive mouth, The church beside the marsh, the hot […]...
37. Sonnet XVI But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? And fortify yourself in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers, Much liker than […]...
38. Sonnet L How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel’s end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say ‘Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!’ The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by […]...
39. Sonnet XXXII The paynefull smith with force of feruent heat, The hardest yron soone doth mollify: That with his heauy sledge he can it beat, And fashion to what he it list apply. Yet cannot all these flames in which I fry, Her hart more harde then yron soft awhit; Ne all the playnts and prayers with […]...
40. Sonnet XX: Fly, Fly, My Friends Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound; fly! See there that boy, that murthering boy I say, Who like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie, Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey. So tyrant he no fitter place could spy, Nor so fair level in so secret stay, As that sweet […]...