She Spins Silk

Related poetry:

1. The Painter on Silk There was a man Who made his living By painting roses Upon silk. He sat in an upper chamber And painted, And the noises of the street Meant nothing to him. When he heard bugles, and fifes, and drums, He thought of red, and yellow, and white roses Bursting in the sunshine, And smiled as […]...
2. When I Was Young the Silk When I was young the silk Of my mind Hard as a peony head Unfurled And wind bloomed the parachute: The air-head tugged me Up, Tore my roots loose and drove High, so high I want to touch down now And taste the ground I want to take in My silk And ask where I […]...
3. Cuckoo Song (Spring begins in southern England on the 14th April, on which date the Old Woman lets the Cuckoo out of her basket at Heathfield Fair locally known as Heffle Cuckoo Fair.) Tell it to the locked-up trees, Cuckoo, bring your song here! Warrant, Act and Summons, please, For Spring to pass along here! Tell old […]...
4. My Cuckoo Clock I bought a cuckoo clock And glad was I To hear its tick and tock, Its dulcet cry. But Jones, whose wife is young And pretty too, Winced when that bird gave tongue: Cuckoo! Cuckoo! I have a lady friend Whom I would wed, For dalliance should end In bridal bed. Until the thought occurred: […]...
5. My Lady in Her White Silk Shawl My lady in her white silk shawl Is like a lily dim, Within the twilight of the room Enthroned and kind and prim. My lady! Pale gold is her hair. Until she smiles her face Is pale with far Hellenic moods, With thoughts that find no place In our harsh village of the West Wherein […]...
6. Spring When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he: ‘Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!’ O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks […]...
7. The Cuckoo No lyric line I ever penned The praise this parasitic bird; And what is more, I don’t intend To write a laudatory word, Since in my garden robins made A nest with eggs of dainty spot, And then a callous cuckoo laid A lone on on the lot. Of course the sillies hatched it out […]...
8. Farewell (II) Hill at mutual escort stop Day dusk shut wood door Spring grass next year green Prince offspring return not return We bid each other farewell beside the hill, As day meets dusk, I close the wooden gate. Next year, in spring, there will be green grass again, But will my honoured friend return?...
9. Turns And Movies: Violet Moore And Bert Moore He thinks her little feet should pass Where dandelions star thickly grass; Her hands should lift in sunlit air Sea-wind should tangle up her hair. Green leaves, he says, have never heard A sweeter ragtime mockingbird, Nor has the moon-man ever seen, Or man in the spotlight, leering green, Such a beguiling, smiling queen. Her […]...
10. Sonnet 21 – Say over again, and yet once over again Say over again, and yet once over again, That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated Should seem ‘a cuckoo-song,’ as thou dost treat it, Remember, never to the hill or plain, Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed. Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted By […]...
11. A Great Time Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad, Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord, How rich and great the times are now! Know, all ye sheep And cows, that keep On staring that I stand so long In grass that’s wet from heavy rain A rainbow and a cuckoo’s […]...
12. The Lark And I have seen, At dawn, The lark Spin out of the long grass And into the pink air – Its wings, Which are neither wide Nor overstrong, Fluttering – The pectorals Ploughing and flashing For nothing but altitude – And the song Bursting All the while From the red throat. And then he descends, […]...
13. An Eternity There is no dusk to be, There is no dawn that was, Only there’s now, and now, And the wind in the grass. Days I remember of Now in my heart, are now; Days that I dream will bloom White the peach bough. Dying shall never be Now in the windy grass; Now under shooken […]...
14. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
15. 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 […]...
16. The Rose Family – Song 1 O flower at my window Why blossom you so fair, With your green and purple cup Upturned to sun and air? ‘I bloom, blithesome Bessie, To cheer your childish heart; The world is full of labor, And this shall be my part.’ Whirl, busy wheel, faster, Spin, little thread, spin; The sun shines fair without, […]...
17. Enthusiasm “Don’t overdo it,” Dad yelled, watching me Play shortstop, collect stamps and shells, Roll on the grass laughing until I peed my pants. “Screw him,” I said, and grabbed every cowry I could find, hogged all the books I could From Heights Library, wore out the baseball Diamond dawn to dusk, and-parents in Duluth- Gorged […]...
18. A Death Song What cometh here from west to east awending? And who are these, the marchers stern and slow? We bear the message that the rich are sending Aback to those who bade them wake and know. Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day. We […]...
19. Worms Worms finer for fishing you couldn’t be wishing; I delved them dismayed from the velvety sod; The rich loam upturning I gathered them squirming, Big, fat, gleamy earthworms, all ripe for my rod. Thinks I, without waiting, my hook I’ll be baiting, And flip me a fish from the foam of the pool; Then Mother […]...
20. Between the Dusk of a Summer Night Between the dusk of a summer night And the dawn of a summer day, We caught at a mood as it passed in flight, And we bade it stoop and stay. And what with the dawn of night began With the dusk of day was done; For that is the way of woman and man, […]...
21. The Little Old Lady in Lavender Silk I was seventy-seven, come August, I shall shortly be losing my bloom; I’ve experienced zephyr and raw gust And (symbolical) flood and simoom. When you come to this time of abatement, To this passing from Summer to Fall, It is manners to issue a statement As to what you got out of it all. So […]...
22. Marble Stairs Grievance On Marble Stairs Still grows the white dew That has all night Soaked her silk slippers, But she lets down Her crystal blind now And sees through glaze The moon of autumn....
23. Pasa Thalassa Thalassa “The sea is everywhere the sea.” I Gone-faded out of the story, the sea-faring friend I remember? Gone for a decade, they say: never a word or a sign. Gone with his hard red face that only his laughter could wrinkle, Down where men go to be still, by the old way of the sea. […]...
24. The Night Cometh Work! for the night is coming; Work! through the morning hours; Work! while the dew is sparkling; Work! ‘mid the springing flowers; Work! while the day grows brighter, Under the glowing sun; Work! for the night is coming, Night, when man’s work is done. Work! for the night is coming; Work! through the sunny noon; […]...
25. The Owl The path was purple in the dusk. I saw an owl, perched, On a branch. And when the owl stirred, a fine dust Fell from its wings. I was Silent then. And felt The owl quaver. And at dawn, waking, The path was green in the May light....
26. 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 […]...
27. The Bush Girl So you rode from the range where your brothers “select,” Through the ghostly grey bush in the dawn – You rode slowly at first, lest her heart should suspect That you were glad to be gone; You had scarcely the courage to glance back at her By the homestead receding from view, And you breathed […]...
28. Memory Of Sun Memory of sun seeps from the heart. Grass grows yellower. Faintly if at all the early snowflakes Hover, hover. Water becoming ice is slowing in The narrow channels. Nothing at all will happen here again, Will ever happen. Against the sky the willow spreads a fan The silk’s torn off. Maybe it’s better I did […]...
29. The Earth-Child in the Grass In the very early morning Long before Dawn time I lay down in the paddock And listened to the cold song of the grass. Between my fingers the green blades, And the green blades pressed against my body. “Who is she leaning so heavily upon me?” Sang the grass. “Why does she weep on my […]...
30. The Spice-Tree This is the song The spice-tree sings: “Hunger and fire, Hunger and fire, Sky-born Beauty- Spice of desire,” Under the spice-tree Watch and wait, Burning maidens And lads that mate. The spice-tree spreads And its boughs come down Shadowing village and farm and town. And none can see But the pure of heart The great […]...
31. Lebennin Silver flow the streams from Colos to Erui In the green fields of Lebennin! Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea The white lilies sway, And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin In the green fields of Lebennin, In the wind from the Sea!...
32. Study Somewhere the long mellow note of the blackbird Quickens the unclasping hands of hazel, Somewhere the wind-flowers fling their heads back, Stirred by an impetuous wind. Some ways’ll All be sweet with white and blue violet. (Hush now, hush. Where am I?-Biuret-) On the green wood’s edge a shy girl hovers From out of the […]...
33. 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, […]...
34. The Thread Something is very gently, Invisibly, silently, Pulling at me-a thread Or net of threads Finer than cobweb and as Elastic. I haven’t tried The strength of it. No barbed hook Pierced and tore me. Was it Not long ago this thread Began to draw me? Or Way back? Was I Born with its knot about […]...
35. Still Heart When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for thee to take it. What there is to do will be instantly done. Vain is this struggle. Then take away your hands And silently put up with your defeat, my heart, And think it your good fortune to sit perfectly still […]...
36. Where? My snowy eupatorium has dropped Its silver threads of petals in the night; No signal told its blossoming had stopped; Its seed-films flutter silent, ghostly white: No answer stirs the shining air, As I ask, “Where?” Beneath the glossy leaves of winter-green Dead lilly-bells lie low, and in their place A rounded disk of pearly […]...
37. Bellinglise Deep in the sloping forest that surrounds The head of a green valley that I know, Spread the fair gardens and ancestral grounds Of Bellinglise, the beautiful chateau. Through shady groves and fields of unmown grass, It was my joy to come at dusk and see, Filling a little pond’s untroubled glass, Its antique towers […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. The Troops Dim, gradual thinning of the shapeless gloom Shudders to drizzling daybreak that reveals Disconsolate men who stamp their sodden boots And turn dulled, sunken faces to the sky Haggard and hopeless. They, who have beaten down The stale despair of night, must now renew Their desolation in the truce of dawn, Murdering the livid hours […]...
40. The Breast This is the key to it. This is the key to everything. Preciously. I am worse than the gamekeeper’s children Picking for dust and bread. Here I am drumming up perfume. Let me go down on your carpet, Your straw mattress whatever’s at hand Because the child in me is dying, dying. It is not […]...