Climbing West Of Lotus Flower Peak

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1. Lotus Hurt by the Cold How many times, like lotus lilies risen Upon the surface of a river, there Have risen floating on my blood the rare Soft glimmers of my hope escaped from prison. So I am clothed all over with the light And sensitive beautiful blossoming of passion; Till naked for her in the finest fashion The flowers […]...
2. On Climbing in Nan-king to the Terrace of Phoenixes Phoenixes that play here once, so that the place was named for them, Have abandoned it now to this desolated river; The paths of Wu Palace are crooked with weeds; The garments of Chin are ancient dust. …Like this green horizon halving the Three Peaks, Like this Island of White Egrets dividing the river, A […]...
3. The Flower of Mending (To Eudora, after I had had certain dire adventures.) When Dragon-fly would fix his wings, When Snail would patch his house, When moths have marred the overcoat Of tender Mister Mouse, The pretty creatures go with haste To the sunlit blue-grass hills Where the Flower of Mending yields the wax And webs to help their […]...
4. The Pasture I’m going out to clean the pasture spring; I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I shan’t be gone long. You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calf That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young, It totters when she licks it […]...
5. ASTROPOETRY ON THE PEAK cocooned in thermal underwear Thick overcoat, scarf and woolly hat To withstand the biting mountain air In the valley below we see the lights Of little houses twinkling in the dark And beyond the next peak The glow from a distant city We scale to these dizzy heights Ignore the pain in our necks Gaze […]...
6. Gazing at the Sacred Peak For all this, what is the mountain god like? An unending green of lands north and south: From ethereal beauty Creation distills There, yin and yang split dusk and dawn. Swelling clouds sweep by. Returning birds Ruin my eyes vanishing. One day soon, At the summit, the other mountains will be Small enough to hold, […]...
7. Lotus On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, And I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded. Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my Dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind. […]...
8. The Ballad of East and West Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, tho’ they come from the ends of the earth! Kamal […]...
9. To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne, With praying eyes and hands elate, What mystic rapture dost thou own, Immutable and ultimate? What peace, unravished of our ken, Annihilate from the world of men? The wind of change for ever blows Across the tumult of our way, To-morrow’s unborn griefs depose The sorrows of our yesterday. Dream […]...
10. Climbing High up in the apple tree climbing I go, With the sky above me, the earth below. Each branch is the step of a wonderful stair Which leads to the town I see shining up there. Climbing, climbing, higher and higher, The branches blow and I see a spire, The gleam of a turret, the […]...
11. Climbing You I want to understand the steep thing That climbs ladders in your throat. I can’t make sense of you. Everywhere I look you’re there A vast landmark, a volcano Poking its head through the clouds, Gulliver sprawled across Lilliput. I climb into your eyes, looking. The pupils are black painted stage flats. They can be […]...
12. Hymn 40 The business and blessedness of glorified saints. Rev. 7:13ff. “What happy men, or angels, these, That all their robes are spotless white? Whence did this glorious troop arrive At the pure realms of heav’nly light?” From torturing racks, and burning fires, And seas of their own blood, they came; But nobler blood has washed their […]...
13. Climbing The Chagrin River We enter The green river, Heron harbor, Mud-basin lined With snagheaps, where turtles Sun themselves we push Through the falling Silky weight Striped warm and cold Bounding down Through the black flanks Of wet rocks we wade Under hemlock And white pine climb Stone steps into The timeless castles Of emerald eddies, Swirls, channels Cold […]...
14. The Winds Out of the West Land Blow The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying […]...
15. The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that […]...
16. Farewell to Hsin Chien at Hibiscus Pavilion A cold rain mingled with the river At evening, when I entered Wu; In the clear dawn I bid you farewell, Lonely as Ch’u Mountain. My kinsfolk in Loyang, Should they ask about me, Tell them: “My heart is a piece of ice In a jade cup!”...
17. Fruit of the Flower My father is a quiet man With sober, steady ways; For simile, a folded fan; His nights are like his days. My mother’s life is puritan, No hint of cavalier, A pool so calm you’re sure it can Have little depth to fear. And yet my father’s eyes can boast How full his life has […]...
18. Soldier, Maiden, and Flower “Sweetheart, take this,” a soldier said, “And bid me brave good-by; It may befall we ne’er shall wed, But love can never die. Be steadfast in thy troth to me, And then, whate’er my lot, ‘My soul to God, my heart to thee,’ Sweetheart, forget me not!” The maiden took the tiny flower And nursed […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. The Red Flower In the pleasant time of Pentecost, By the little river Kyll, I followed the angler’s winding path Or waded the stream at will, And the friendly fertile German land Lay round me green and still. But all day long on the eastern bank Of the river cool and clear, Where the curving track of the […]...
21. Nefarious War Last year we fought by the head-stream of the Sang-kan, This year we are fighting on the Tsung-ho road. We have washed our armor in the waves of the Chiao-chi lake, We have pastured our horses on Tien-shan’s snowy slopes. The long, long war goes on ten thousand miles from home, Our three armies are […]...
22. The Flower of Liberty WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming band It kindles all the sunset land: Oh tell us what its name may be, Is this the Flower of Liberty? It is the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty! In savage […]...
23. West Riding Bright sari in a darkened street – The lilting grey of Yorkshire sky; Rust requiems for demolished mills – Repeating grooves of curlew’s cry. And did Jane once sit on this stile And watch the moon look down on Hay, And see the dog and hear the horse Send icy clatters through the grey? Then […]...
24. Armies in the Fire The lamps now glitter down the street; Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls. Now in the falling of the gloom The red fire paints the empty room: And warmly on the roof it looks, And flickers on the back of books. Armies march by […]...
25. Journey West I said Goodbye To Beale Street one year, Eyes hurting From the painful contrast Of stark white on black – Dividing-lines with No intervening warm colors. West of the Mississippi The Trail of Tears Meanders, Silent imitation Of the great river, A different culture’s Babylon Although dry now, Bones’ dust Underneath retreating feet. Trading riverbanks […]...
26. The West Wind IT’S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills. And April’s in the west wind, and daffodils. It’s a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine, […]...
27. The West Wind Beneath the forest’s skirts I rest, Whose branching pines rise dark and high, And hear the breezes of the West Among the threaded foliage sigh. Sweet Zephyr! why that sound of wo? Is not thy home among the flowers? Do not the bright June roses blow, To meet thy kiss at morning hours? And lo! […]...
28. West London Crouch’d on the pavement close by Belgrave Square A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied; A babe was in her arms, and at her side A girl; their clothes were rags, their feet were bare. Some labouring men, whose work lay somewhere there, Pass’d opposite; she touch’d her girl, who hied Across, and begg’d […]...
29. The Sun Was Slumbering in the West The sun was slumbering in the West, My daily labors past; On Anna’s soft and gentle breast My head reclined at last; The darkness closed around, so dear To fond congenial souls, And thus she murmur’d at my ear, “My love, we’re out of coals! “That Mister Bond has call’d again, Insisting on his rent; […]...
30. Ode To The West Wind I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: 0 thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each […]...
31. To the East and to the West TO the East and to the West; To the man of the Seaside State, and of Pennsylvania, To the Kanadian of the North-to the Southerner I love; These, with perfect trust, to depict you as myself-the germs are in all men; I believe the main purport of These States is to found a superb friendship, […]...
32. The Idea Of Order At Key West She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, That was not ours although we understood, Inhuman, of the veritable ocean. The sea was not a mask. […]...
33. Last Answers I wrote a poem on the mist And a woman asked me what I meant by it. I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist, how pearl and gray of it mix and reel, And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening into points of mystery quivering with color. […]...
34. Melpomene The forest bitter, spiky, No shore breeze, no foothills, The grass grows matted, death will come With horses’ hooves, endlessly Over the steppes’ mounds, we went back, Searching the sky for the fort That could not be razed. The villages hostile, The cottages cleared out in haste, Smoked skin on the attic beams, Snare netting, […]...
35. These held their Wick above the West These held their Wick above the West Till when the Red declined Or how the Amber aided it Defied to be defined Then waned without disparagement In a dissembling Hue That would not let the Eye decide Did it abide or no...
36. Sonnet On The Death Of Mr Richard West In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And redd’ning Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join; Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: These ears, alas! for other notes repine, A different object do these eyes require: My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my […]...
37. Facing West from California’s Shores FACING west, from California’s shores, Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my Western Sea-the circle almost circled; For, starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere, From Asia-from the north-from […]...
38. 116. On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies A’ YE wha live by sowps o’ drink, A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink, A’ ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi’ me! Our billie ‘s gien us a’ a jink, An’ owre the sea! Lament him a’ ye rantin core, Wha dearly like a random splore; Nae mair he’ll join the merry […]...
39. A Poetry Reading At West Point I read to the entire plebe class, In two batches. Twice the hall filled With bodies dressed alike, each toting A copy of my book. What would my Shrink say, if I had one, about Such a dream, if it were a dream? Question and answer time. “Sir,” a cadet yelled from the balcony, And […]...
40. Memories of West Street and Lepke Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming In pajamas fresh from the washer each morning, I hog a whole house on Boston’s “hardly passionate Marlborough Street,” Where even the man Scavenging filth in the back alley trash cans, Has two children, a beach wagon, a helpmate, And is “a young Republican.” I have a nine months’ daughter, […]...