Countrywomen

Related poetry:

1. Up Scoble Scobble for whoredom whips his wife and cries He’ll slit her nose; but blubbering she replies, “Good sir, make no more cuts i’ th’ outward skin, One slit’s enough to let adultery in....
2. ENGLAND’S OPENERS A blackbird lands A good beer-barrel A man sits in a cave knitting A theatre in Copenhagen Abask the sea-wall Alice was demure and O All the way to Bury Amid the heather Among the lupins And after little suzie And it was his grief that kept him travelling And the baby miscarried And the […]...
3. Today If ever there were a spring day so perfect, So uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze That it made you want to throw Open all the windows in the house And unlatch the door to the canary’s cage, Indeed, rip the little door from its jamb, A day when the cool brick paths And the […]...
4. Under The Round Tower ‘Although I’d lie lapped up in linen A deal I’d sweat and little earn If I should live as live the neighbours,’ Cried the beggar, Billy Byrne; ‘Stretch bones till the daylight come On great-grandfather’s battered tomb.’ Upon a grey old battered tombstone In Glendalough beside the stream Where the O’Byrnes and Byrnes are buried, […]...
5. 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 […]...
6. Evening Song of the Thoughtful Child Shadow children, thin and small, Now the day is left behind, You are dancing on the wall, On the curtains, on the blind. On the ceiling, children, too, Peeping round the nursery door, Let me come and play with you, As we always played before. Let’s pretend that we have wings And can really truly […]...
7. The Keys of Morning While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She slanted her small bead-brown eyes Across the empty street, And saw Death softly watching her In the sunshine pale and sweet. His was a long lean sallow face; He sat with half-shut eyes, […]...
8. Martha “Once…Once upon a time…” Over and over again, Martha would tell us her stories, In the hazel glen. Hers were those clear gray eyes You watch, and the story seems Told by their beautifulness Tranquil as dreams. She’d sit with her two slim hands Clasped round her bended knees; While we on our elbows lolled, […]...
9. The Snakes of September All summer I heard them Rustling in the shrubbery, Outracing me from tier To tier in my garden, A whisper among the viburnums, A signal flashed from the hedgerow, A shadow pulsing In the barberry thicket. Now that the nights are chill And the annuals spent, I should have thought them gone, In a torpor […]...
10. Poem 13 Behold whiles she before the altar stands Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes And blesseth her with his two happy hands, How the red roses flush vp in her cheekes, And the pure snow with goodly vermill stayne, Like crimsin dyde in grayne, That euen th’Angels which continually, About the sacred Altare doe […]...
11. Dream Song 81: Op. posth. no. 4 He loom’ so cagey he say ‘Leema beans’ And measured his intake to the atmosphere Of that fairly stable country. His ear hurt. Left. The rock-cliffs, a mite sheer At his age, in these places. Scrubbing out his fear, — The knowledge that they will take off your hands, Both hands; as well as your […]...
12. The Brain, within its Groove The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly and true But let a Splinter swerve ‘Twere easier for You To put a Current back When Floods have slit the Hills And scooped a Turnpike for Themselves And trodden out the Mills...
13. Call To Account! The drum of war thunders and thunders. It calls: thrust iron into the living. From every country Slave after slave Are thrown onto bayonet steel. For the sake of what? The earth shivers Hungry And stripped. Mankind is vapourised in a blood bath Only so Someone Somewhere Can get hold of Albania. Human gangs bound […]...
14. It struck me every Day It struck me every Day The Lightning was as new As if the Cloud that instant slit And let the Fire through It burned Me in the Night It Blistered to My Dream It sickened fresh upon my sight With every Morn that came I though that Storm was brief The Maddest quickest by But […]...
15. Hiawathas' photographing ( Part IV) Next to him the eldest daughter: She suggested very little Only asked if he would take her With her look of ‘passive beauty-‘ Her idea of passive beauty Was a squinting of the left-eye, Was a drooping of the right-eye, Was a smile that went up Sideways To the corner of the nostrils. Hiawatha, when […]...
16. Good neighbours To my shame I’ve been mending fences again… A quaint habit I inherited from my father; He would rather fix a fence than parley Repair, and that it is where our views diverged. He said fences were meant to make good Neighbours. In the intervening years I had it Wrong, believing a fence was a […]...
17. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
18. The Trees like Tassels hit and swung The Trees like Tassels hit and swung There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun Far Psalteries of Summer Enamoring the Ear They never yet did satisfy Remotest when most fair The Sun shone whole at intervals Then Half then utter hid As if Himself were optional And had Estates of […]...
19. The Beautiful Xi Shi Since beauty is honoured all over the Empire, How could Xi Shi remain humbly at home? Washing clothes at dawn by a southern lake And that evening a great lady in a palace of the north: Lowly one day, no different from the others, The next day exalted, everyone praising her. No more would her […]...
20. Theology There is a heaven, for ever, day by day, The upward longing of my soul doth tell me so. There is a hell, I’m quite as sure; for pray If there were not, where would my neighbours go?...
21. To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing Now all the truth is out, Be secret and take defeat From any brazen throat, For how can you compete, Being honour bred, with one Who, were it proved he lies, Were neither shamed in his own Nor in his neighbours’ eyes? Bred to a harder thing Than Triumph, turn away And like a laughing […]...
22. Hops Beneath the willow wound round with ivy We take cover from the worst Of the storm, with a greatcoat round Our shoulders and my hands around your waist. I’ve got it wrong. That isn’t ivy Entwined in the bushes round The wood, but hops. You intoxicate me! Let’s spread the greatcoat on the ground....
23. Lichtenberg Smells are surer than sounds or sights To make your heart-strings crack They start those awful voices o’ nights That whisper, ” Old man, come back! “ That must be why the big things pass And the little things remain, Like the smell of the wattle by Lichtenberg, Riding in, in the rain. There was […]...
24. Out of White Lips OUT of white lips a question: Shall seven million dead ask for their blood a little land for the living wives and children, a little land for the living brothers and sisters? Out of white lips:-Shall they have only air that sweeps round the earth for breath of their nostrils and no footing on the […]...
25. To My Brother George Many the wonders I this day have seen: The sun, when first he kissed away the tears That filled the eyes of Morn;-the laurelled peers Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;- The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, Its voice mysterious, which […]...
26. The Hawk and the Babe [Dedicated to Raymond Radclyffe] I am that hawk of gold Proud in adamantine poise On the pillars of torqoise, See, beyond the starry fold, Where a darkling orb is rolled. There, beneath a grove of yew, Plays a babe. Should I despise Such a foam of gold, and eyes Burning beryline, so blue That the […]...
27. The Pilgrim I fasted for some forty days on bread and buttermilk, For passing round the bottle with girls in rags or silk, In country shawl or Paris cloak, had put my wits astray, And what’s the good of women, for all that they can say Is fol de rol de rolly O. Round Lough Derg’s holy […]...
28. Tewkesbury Road IT is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where, Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why; Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air, Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky. […]...
29. Oh For the Swords of Former Time Oh for the swords of former time! Oh for the men who bore them, When, arm’d for Right, they stood sublime, And tyrants crouch’d before them: When free yet, ere courts began With honours to enslave him, The best honours worn by Man Were those which Virtue gave him. Oh for the swords, etc., etc. […]...
30. UPON A DELAYING LADY Come, come away Or let me go; Must I here stay Because you’re slow, And will continue so; Troth, lady, no. I scorn to be A slave to state; And since I’m free, I will not wait, Henceforth at such a rate, For needy fate. If you desire My spark should glow, The peeping fire […]...
31. A London Plane-Tree Green is the plane-tree in the square, The other trees are brown; They droop and pine for country air; The plane-tree loves the town. Here from my garret-pane, I mark The plane-tree bud and blow, Shed her recuperative bark, And spread her shade below. Among her branches, in and out, The city breezes play; The […]...
32. The Field Daisy I’m a pretty little thing, Always coming with the spring; In the meadows green I’m found, Peeping just above the ground, And my stalk is cover’d flat With a white and yellow hat. Little Mary, when you pass Lightly o’er the tender grass, Skip about, but do not tread On my bright but lowly head, […]...
33. Pea Brush I WALKED down alone Sunday after church To the place where John has been cutting trees To see for myself about the birch He said I could have to bush my peas. The sun in the new-cut narrow gap Was hot enough for the first of May, And stifling hot with the odor of sap […]...
34. Longing Could I from this valley drear, Where the mist hangs heavily, Soar to some more blissful sphere, Ah! how happy should I be! Distant hills enchant my sight, Ever young and ever fair; To those hills I’d take my flight Had I wings to scale the air. Harmonies mine ear assail, Tunes that breathe a […]...
35. Upon The Nipples Of Julia's Breast Have ye beheld (with much delight) A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam A strawberry shows half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient too? So like to this, nay […]...
36. Cripple ONCE when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air, Desperately gesturing with wasted hands In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum, I said to myself I would rather have been a tall sunflower Living in a country […]...
37. Violence ( Goya "The Third of May 1808") The brain – the brush Here celebrate That long red stain Seeping the universe. Was not the chink of light Peeping between the walls Of birth – of death Transient enough? – And yet this trivial massacre Must shorten it. And only one protests – That man White-shirted – arms upraised In one last gesturing […]...
38. Beyond It seemeth such a little way to me Across to that strange country – the Beyond; And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be The home of those whom I am so fond, They make it seem familiar and most dear, As journeying friends bring distant regions near. So close it lies, that […]...
39. She is Far From the Land She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her, sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking; Ah! little they think, who […]...
40. The wanderer Upon a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Ah, who can say Whether there dropped by some too careless […]...