To the Tune

Related poetry:

1. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
2. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
3. Tz'u No. 7 To the tune of “Rinsing Silk Stream” Let not the deep cup be filled With rich, amber-colored wine; My mind was eased of sorrow Even before I was drunk. Distant bells have already echoed In the evening breeze. My dream is broken As the scent of incense vanishes. Too small, the hairpin of the gold […]...
4. To the Tune of The fragrance of the pink lotus Fails, the jade mat hints of autumn. Softly I unfasten my silk cloak, Who is sending a letter from Among the clouds? When the swan message returns, The balcony is flooded with moonlight. The blossoms drift on, the water flows. There is the same yearning of the heart, But […]...
5. The only Ghost I ever saw The only Ghost I ever saw Was dressed in Mechlin so He wore no sandal on his foot And stepped like flakes of snow His Gait was soundless, like the Bird But rapid like the Roe His fashions, quaint, Mosaic Or haply, Mistletoe His conversation seldom His laughter, like the Breeze That dies away in […]...
6. Over and over, like a Tune Over and over, like a Tune The Recollection plays Drums off the Phantom Battlements Cornets of Paradise Snatches, from Baptized Generations Cadences too grand But for the Justified Processions At the Lord’s Right hand....
7. Tz'u No. 10 (Exile) To the tune of “Bodhisattva Aliens” Soft breezes, mild sunshine, Spring is still young. The sudden change of the light Brightened my spirit. But upon awakening from slumber, I felt the chill air; The plum flower withered in my hair. Where can I call my native land? Forget – I cannot, except in wine When […]...
8. Belfast Tune Here’s a girl from a dangerous town She crops her dark hair short so that less of her has to frown when someine gets hurt. She folds her memories like a parachute. Dropped, she collects the peat and cooks her veggies at home: they shoot here where they eat. Ah, there’s more sky in these […]...
9. An Old Cracked Tune My name is Solomon Levi, The desert is my home, My mother’s breast was thorny, And father I had none. The sands whispered, Be separate, The stones taught me, Be hard. I dance, for the joy of surviving, On the edge of the road....
10. The Robin's my Criterion for Tune The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune Because I grow where Robins do But, were I Cuckoo born I’d swear by him The ode familiar rules the Noon The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom Because, we’re Orchard sprung But, were I Britain born, I’d Daisies spurn None but the Nut October fit Because, through dropping it, […]...
11. Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake I My Paistin Finn is my sole desire, And I am shrunken to skin and bone, For all my heart has had for its hire Is what I can whistle alone and alone. Oro, oro! Tomorrow night I will break down the door. What is the good of a man and he Alone and alone, […]...
12. Occupational Hazard He has slept with accountants and brokers, With a cowgirl (well, someone from Healds). He has slept with non-smokers and smokers In commercial and cultural fields. He has slept with book-keepers, book-binders, Slept with auditors, florists, PAs Child psychologists, even child minders, With directors of firms and of plays. He has slept with the stupid […]...
13. Song from 'Paracelsus&#039 HEAP cassia, sandal-buds and stripes Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smear’d with dull nard an Indian wipes From out her hair: such balsam falls Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain. And strew faint sweetness from some old Egyptian’s fine […]...
14. "Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes&quot Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes From out her hair: such balsam falls Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain. And strew faint sweetness from some old Egyptian’s fine […]...
15. On A Picture Of A Black Centaur By Edmund Dulac Your hooves have stamped at the black margin of the wood, Even where horrible green parrots call and swing. My works are all stamped down into the sultry mud. I knew that horse-play, knew it for a murderous thing. What wholesome sun has ripened is wholesome food to eat, And that alone; yet I, being […]...
16. A Cider Song To J. S. M. The wine they drink in Paradise They make in Haute Lorraine; God brought it burning from the sod To be a sign and signal rod That they that drink the blood of God Shall never thirst again. The wine they praise in Paradise They make in Ponterey, The purple wine of […]...
17. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 02: The Screen Maiden You read-what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand turns the page. I watch you from my window, unsuspected: You move in an alien land, a silent age. . . . . . The poet-what was his name-? Tokkei-Tokkei- The poet walked alone in […]...
18. Winter Night It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned. As during summer midges swarm To beat their wings against a flame Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed To beat against the window pane The blizzard sculptured on the […]...
19. Not yet 40, my beard is already white Not yet 40, my beard is already white. Not yet awake, my eyes are puffy and red, Like a child who has cried too much. What is more disagreeable Than last night’s wine? I’ll shave. I’ll stick my head in the cold spring and Look around at the pebbles. Maybe I can eat a can […]...
20. In The Gold Room – A Harmony Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees Rustle their pale-leaves listlessly, Or the drifting foam of a restless sea When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze. Her gold hair fell on the wall of gold Like the delicate gossamer […]...
21. Tz'u No. 18 To the tune of “Intoxicated in the Shadow of Flowers” Thin mist, dense clouds, a grief-stricken day; Auspicious incense burns in the gold animal. Once again, it is the joyous mid-autumn festival, But a midnight chill Touches my jade pillow and silk bed-screen. I drink wine by the eastern fence in the yellow dusk. Now […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. The Yukoner He burned a hole in frozen muck, He pierced the icy mould, And there in six-foot dirt he struck A sack or so of gold. He burned holes in the Decalogue, And then it cam about, For Fortune’s just a lousy rogue, His “pocket” petered out. And lo! ’twas but a year all told, When […]...
24. Correspondences Nature is a temple where the living pillars Let go sometimes a blurred speech- A Forest of symbols passes through a man’s reach And observes him with a familiar regard. Like the distant echoes that mingle and confound In a unity of darkness and quiet Deep as the night, clear as daylight The perfumes, the […]...
25. Colors Passing Through Us Purple as tulips in May, mauve Into lush velvet, purple As the stain blackberries leave On the lips, on the hands, The purple of ripe grapes Sunlit and warm as flesh. Every day I will give you a color, Like a new flower in a bud vase On your desk. Every day I will paint […]...
26. The Double Ninth Festival To the tune of “Intoxicated Under the Shadow of Flowers” Light mists and heavy clouds, Melancholy the long dreary day. In the golden censer The burning incense is dying away. It is again time For the lovely Double-Ninth Festival; The coolness of midnight Penetrates my screen of sheer silk And chills my pillow of jade. […]...
27. Joy and Sorrow chapter VIII Then a woman said, “Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.” And he answered: Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. […]...
28. Rita And The Rifle Between Rita and my eyes There is a rifle And whoever knows Rita Kneels and plays To the divinity in those honey-colored eyes And I kissed Rita When she was young And I remember how she approached And how my arm covered the loveliest of braids And I remember Rita The way a sparrow remembers […]...
29. Grammar Maxine, back from a weekend with her boyfriend, Smiles like a big cat and says That she’s a conjugated verb. She’s been doing the direct object With a second person pronoun named Phil, And when she walks into the room, Everybody turns: Some kind of light is coming from her head. Even the geraniums look […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. At Bessemer 19 years old and going nowhere, I got a ride to Bessemer and walked The night road toward Birmingham Passing dark groups of men cursing The end of a week like every week. Out of town I found a small grove Of trees, high narrow pines, and I Sat back against the trunk of one […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. He Knows All There Is To Know. Now He Is Acquainted With The Day And Night (Robert Frost, 1875-1963) Whose wood this is I think I know: He made it sacred long ago: He will expect me, far or near To watch that wood immense with snow. That famous horse must feel great fear Now that his noble rider’s no longer here: He gives his harness bells to rhyme Perhaps he […]...
34. Everything Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded, Black death’s wing’s overhead. Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated, So why does a light shine ahead? By day, a mysterious wood, near the town, Breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume. By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent, New constellations are thrown. And something miraculous will come Close to the […]...
35. The Gardener XLVIII: Free Me Free me from the bonds of your Sweetness, my love! Nor more of this Wine of kisses. This mist of heavy incense stifles My heart. Open the doors, make room for the Morning light. I am lost in you, wrapped in the Folds of your caresses. Free me from your spells, and give Me back […]...
36. The Little Garden A little garden on a bleak hillside Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow Lies far into the spring. The sun’s pale glow Is scarcely able to melt patches wide About the single rose bush. All denied Of nature’s tender ministries. But no, For wonder-working faith has made it blow With flowers many hued and […]...
37. PRAY AND PROSPER First offer incense; then, thy field and meads Shall smile and smell the better by thy beads. The spangling dew dredged o’er the grass shall be Turn’d all to mell and manna there for thee. Butter of amber, cream, and wine, and oil, Shall run as rivers all throughout thy soil. Would’st thou to sincere […]...
38. How many Flowers fail in Wood How many Flowers fail in Wood Or perish from the Hill Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful How many cast a nameless Pod Upon the nearest Breeze Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight It bear to Other Eyes...
39. Song of the Flower XXIII I am a kind word uttered and repeated By the voice of Nature; I am a star fallen from the Blue tent upon the green carpet. I am the daughter of the elements With whom Winter conceived; To whom Spring gave birth; I was Reared in the lap of Summer and I Slept in the […]...
40. IN SUMMER How plain and height With dewdrops are bright! How pearls have crown’d The plants all around! How sighs the breeze Thro’ thicket and trees! How loudly in the sun’s clear rays The sweet birds carol forth their lays! But, ah! above, Where saw I my love, Within her room, Small, mantled in gloom, Enclosed around, […]...