Song by the Window Before Bed

Related poetry:

1. Daybreak In Alabama When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music about Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist And falling out of heaven like soft dew. I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it And the scent […]...
2. On A Cape May Warbler Who Flew Against My Window She’s stopped in her southern tracks Brought haply to this hard knock When she shoots from the tall spruce And snaps her neck on the glass. From the fall grass I gather her And give her to my silent children Who give her a decent burial Under the dogwood in the garden. They lay their […]...
3. At the Window The pine-trees bend to listen to the autumn wind as it mutters Something which sets the black poplars ashake with hysterical laughter; While slowly the house of day is closing its eastern shutters. Further down the valley the clustered tombstones recede, Winding about their dimness the mist’s grey cerements, after The street lamps in the […]...
4. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
5. Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand, Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand; Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies, But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan. The […]...
6. The Lighted Window A lighted window floats through the night Like a piece of paper in the wind. I want to see into it. I want to climb Through into its lighted room. As I reach for it it slips through the Trees. As I chase it it rolls and tumbles Into the air and skitters on through […]...
7. At a Window Give me hunger, O you gods that sit and give The world its orders. Give me hunger, pain and want, Shut me out with shame and failure From your doors of gold and fame, Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger! But leave me a little love, A voice to speak to me in the day […]...
8. One Inch Tall If you were only one inch tall, you’d ride a worm to school. The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool. A crumb of cake would be a feast And last you seven days at least, A flea would be a frightening beast If you were one inch tall. If you were […]...
9. The Song of the Beasts (Sung, on one night, in the cities, in the darkness.) Come away! Come away! Ye are sober and dull through the common day, But now it is night! It is shameful night, and God is asleep! (Have you not felt the quick fires that creep Through the hungry flesh, and the lust of delight, And […]...
10. Blues Those five or six young guys Lunched on the stoop That oven-hot summer night Whistled me over. Nice And friendly. So, I stop. MacDougal or Christopher Street in chains of light. A summer festival. Or some Saint’s. I wasn’t too far from Home, but not too bright For a nigger, and not too dark. I […]...
11. My Song This song of mine will wind its music around you, my child, like The fond arms of love. This song of mine will touch your forehead like a kiss of Blessing. When you are alone it will sit by your side and whisper in Your ear, when you are in the crowd it will fence […]...
12. I Sit By The Window I said fate plays a game without a score, And who needs fish if you’ve got caviar? The triumph of the Gothic style would come to pass And turn you on no need for coke, or grass. I sit by the window. Outside, an aspen. When I loved, I loved deeply. It wasn’t often. I […]...
13. Fear Is What Quickens Me 1 Many animals that our fathers killed in America Had quick eyes. They stared about wildly, When the moon went dark. The new moon falls into the freight yards Of cities in the south, But the loss of the moon to the dark hands of Chicago Does not matter to the deer In this northern […]...
14. 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 […]...
15. Sunshine through a Cobwebbed Window What charm is yours, you faded old-world tapestries, Of outworn, childish mysteries, Vague pageants woven on a web of dream! And we, pushing and fighting in the turbid stream Of modern life, find solace in your tarnished broideries. Old lichened halls, sun-shaded by huge cedar-trees, The layered branches horizontal stretched, like Japanese Dark-banded prints. Carven […]...
16. Girl In A Miniskirt Reading The Bible Outside My Window Sunday, I am eating a Grapefruit, church is over at the Russian Orthadox to the West. She is dark Of Eastern descent, Large brown eyes look up from the Bible Then down. a small red and black Bible, and as she reads Her legs keep moving, moving, She is doing a slow rythmic dance Reading […]...
17. Jungheimer's In western fields of corn and northern timber lands, They talk about me, a saloon with a soul, The soft red lights, the long curving bar, The leather seats and dim corners, Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cutting ham, And the painting of a woman half-dressed thrown reckless across a bed after a night of […]...
18. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
19. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of the shower Splashing its silver on roofs and walls: Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city, And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea, Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark […]...
20. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
21. Love Song Once in the world’s first prime, When nothing lived or stirred, Nothing but new-born Time, Nor was there even a bird – The Silence spoke to a Star, But do not dare repeat What it said to its love afar: It was too sweet, too sweet. But there, in the fair world’s youth, Ere sorrow […]...
22. An Arab Love-Song The hunchèd camels of the night Trouble the bright And silver waters of the moon. The Maiden of the Morn will soon Through Heaven stray and sing, Star gathering. Now while the dark about our loves is strewn, Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come! And night will catch her breath up, […]...
23. Desmond's Song By the Feal’s wave benighted, No star in the skies, To thy door by Love lighted, I first saw those eyes. Some voice whisper’d o’er me, As the threshold I cross’d, There was ruin before me, If I loved, I was lost. Love came, and brought sorrow Too soon in his train; Yet so sweet, […]...
24. Dream Variations To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening Beneath a tall tree While night comes on gently, Dark like me- That is my dream! To fling my arms wide In the face of the sun, Dance! […]...
25. Dream Song 100: How this woman came by the courage How this woman came by the courage, how she got The courage, Henry bemused himself in a frantic hot Night of the eight of July, Where it came from, did once the Lord frown down Upon her ancient cradle thinking ‘This one Will do before she die For two and seventy years of chipped indignities […]...
26. 289. Song-Awa', Whigs, Awa&#039 Chorus.-Awa’ Whigs, awa’! Awa’ Whigs, awa’! Ye’re but a pack o’ traitor louns, Ye’ll do nae gude at a’. OUR thrissles flourish’d fresh and fair, And bonie bloom’d our roses; But Whigs cam’ like a frost in June, An’ wither’d a’ our posies. Awa’ Whigs, &c. Our ancient crown’s fa’en in the dust- Deil blin’ […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. Verses on Sir Joshua Reynold’s Painted Window at New College, Oxford Ah, stay thy treacherous hand, forbear to trace Those faultless forms of elegance and grace! Ah, cease to spread the bright transparent mass, With Titian’s pencil, o’er the speaking glass! Nor steal, by strokes of art with truth combin’d, The fond illusions of my wayward mind! For long, enamour’d of a barbarous age, A faithless […]...
29. Song to the Evening Star 1 Star that bringest home the bee, 2 And sett’st the weary labourer free! 3 If any star shed peace, ’tis thou, 4 That send’st it from above, 5 Appearing when Heaven’s breath and brow 6 Are sweet as hers we love. 7 Come to the luxuriant skies 8 Whilst the landscape’s odours rise, 9 […]...
30. Song (She Sat And Sang Alway) She sat and sang alway By the green margin of a stream, Watching the fishes leap and play Beneath the glad sunbeam. I sat and wept alway Beneath the moon’s most shadowy beam, Watching the blossoms of the May Weep leaves into the stream. I wept for memory; She sang for hope that is so […]...
31. Song (Go And Catch A Falling Star) Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil’s foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing, Or to keep off envy’s stinging, And find What wind Serves to advance an honest mind. If thou be’st born to strange sights, Things […]...
32. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
33. Dream Song 89: Op. posth. no. 12 In a blue series towards his sleepy eyes They slid like wonder, women tall & small, Of every shape & size, In many languages to lisp ‘We do’ To Henry almost waking. What is the night at all, His closed eyes beckon you. In the Marriage of the Dead, a new routine, He gasped his […]...
34. Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
35. At The Window Every morning, as I walk down From my dreary lodgings, toward the town, I see at a window, near the street, The face of a woman, fair and sweet, With soft brown eyes and chestnut hair, And red lips, warm with the kisses left there. And she stands there as long as she can see […]...
36. Boy at the Window Seeing the snowman standing all alone In dusk and cold is more than he can bear. The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare A night of gnashings and enormous moan. His tearful sight can hardly reach to where The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes Returns him such a God-forsaken stare As outcast Adam […]...
37. At the Window I have not always had this certainty, this pessimism which reassures the best among us. There was A time when my friends laughed at me. I was not the master of my words. A certain indifference, I Have not always known well what I wanted to say, but most often it was because I had […]...
38. Window I looked out the window at dawn and saw a young apple tree Translucent in brightness. And when I looked out at dawn once again, an apple tree laden with Fruit stood there. Many years had probably gone by but I remember nothing of what Happened in my sleep....
39. The Window In the sweet, Atlantic Breathing of spring My curtain’s like a butterfly, Huge, fluttering Like a Hindu widow To a pyre’s golden blaze, Like a drowsy Naiad To past-window seas....
40. Credo I cannot find my way: there is no star In all the shrouded heavens anywhere; And there is not a whisper in the air Of any living voice but one so far That I can hear it only as a bar Of lost, imperial music, played when fair And angel fingers wove, and unaware, Dead […]...