Spicewood

Related poetry:

1. There Was a Cherry-Tree There was a cherry-tree. Its bloomy snows Cool even now the fevered sight that knows No more its airy visions of pure joy As when you were a boy. There was a cherry-tree. The Bluejay sat His blue against its white O blue as jet He seemed there then! But now Whoever knew He was […]...
2. Cherry – Tree Inn The rafters are open to sun, moon, and star, Thistles and nettles grow high in the bar The chimneys are crumbling, the log fires are dead, And green mosses spring from the hearthstone instead. The voices are silent, the bustle and din, For the railroad hath ruined the Cherry-tree Inn. Save the glimmer of stars, […]...
3. CHERRY RIPE Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come, and buy: If so be you ask me where They do grow? I answer, there Where my Julia’s lips do smile; There’s the land, or cherry-isle; Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow....
4. 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 […]...
5. Foreign Lands Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad in foreign lands. I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before. I saw the dimpling river pass […]...
6. The Appology ‘Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule I am alone forbid to play the fool To follow through the Groves a wand’ring Muse And fain’d Idea’s for my pleasures chuse Why shou’d it in my Pen be held a fault Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought Whilst Lamia to […]...
7. Parable Of The Dove A dove lived in a village. When it opened its mouth Sweetness came out, sound Like a silver light around The cherry bough. But The dove wasn’t satisfied. It saw the villagers Gathered to listen under The blossoming tree. It didn’t think: I Am higher that they are. It wanted to wealk among them, To […]...
8. The Self and the Mulberry I wanted to see the self, so I looked at the mulberry. It had no trouble accepting its limits, Yet defining and redefining a small area So that any shape was possible, any movement. It stayed put, but was part of all the air. I wanted to learn to be there and not there Like […]...
9. Bird Sanctuary Between the cliff-rise and the beach A slip of emerald I own; With fig and olive, almond, peach, Cherry and plum-tree overgrown; Glad-watered by a crystal spring That carols through the silver night, And populous with birds who sing Gay madrigals for my delight. Some merchants fain would buy my land To build a stately […]...
10. THE MUSES' SON [Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in His Autobiography, as expressing the manner in which his poetical Effusions used to pour out from him.] THROUGH field and wood to stray, And pipe my tuneful lay, ‘Tis thus my days are pass’d; And all keep tune with me, And move in harmony, And so on, […]...
11. 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 […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. Seven If on water and sweet bread Seven years I’ll add to life, For me will no blood be shed, No lamb know the evil knife; Excellently will I dine On a crust and Adam’s wine. If a bed in monkish cell Well mean old of age to me, Let me in a convent dwell, And […]...
14. Cherry-Time Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune: Merry, merry, Take a cherry; Mine are sounder, Mine are rounder, Mine are sweeter For the eater Under the moon. And you’ll be fairies soon. In the cherry pluckt at night, With […]...
15. 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 […]...
16. At Cheyenne Young Lochinvar came in from the West, With fringe on his trousers and fur on his vest; The width of his hat-brim could nowhere be beat, His No. Brogans were chuck full of feet, His girdle was horrent with pistols and things, And he flourished a handful of aces on kings. The fair Mariana sate […]...
17. Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in […]...
18. Blue Squills How many million Aprils came Before I ever knew How white a cherry bough could be, A bed of squills, how blue! And many a dancing April When life is done with me, Will lift the blue flame of the flower And the white flame of the tree. Oh burn me with your beauty, then, […]...
19. A Dedication. To Charlotte Cushman As Love will carve dear names upon a tree, Symbol of gravure on his heart to be, So thought I thine with loving text to set In the growth and substance of my canzonet; But, writing it, my tears begin to fall This wild-rose stem for thy large name’s too small! Nay, still my trembling […]...
20. Not A Child ‘Not a child: I call myself a boy,’ Says my king, with accent stern yet mild, Now nine years have brought him change of joy; ‘Not a child.’ How could reason be so far beguiled, Err so far from sense’s safe employ, Stray so wide of truth, or run so wild? Seeing his face bent […]...
21. Haiku (Never Published) Drinking my tea Without sugar- No difference. The sparrow shits upside down ah! my brain & eggs Mayan head in a Pacific driftwood bole Someday I’ll live in N. Y. Looking over my shoulder My behind was covered With cherry blossoms. Winter Haiku I didn’t know the names Of the flowers now My garden is […]...
22. An Autograph I write my name as one, On sands by waves o’errun Or winter’s frosted pane, Traces a record vain. Oblivion’s blankness claims Wiser and better names, And well my own may pass As from the strand or glass. Wash on, O waves of time! Melt, noons, the frosty rime! Welcome the shadow vast, The silence […]...
23. Paths I shall tread, another year, Ways I walked with Grief, Past the dry, ungarnered ear And the brittle leaf. I shall stand, a year apart, Wondering, and shy, Thinking, “Here she broke her heart; Here she pled to die.” I shall hear the pheasants call, And the raucous geese; Down these ways, another Fall, I […]...
24. 500. Song-Craigieburn Wood (Second Version) SWEET fa’s the eve on Craigieburn, And blythe awakes the morrow; But a’ the pride o’ Spring’s return Can yield me nocht but sorrow. I see the flowers and spreading trees, I hear the wild birds singing; But what a weary wight can please, And Care his bosom wringing! Fain, fain would I my griefs […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. A Winter Eden A winter garden in an alder swamp, Where conies now come out to sun and romp, As near a paradise as it can be And not melt snow or start a dormant tree. It lifts existence on a plane of snow One level higher than the earth below, One level nearer heaven overhead, And last […]...
28. Dedicatory Poem For "Underwoods&quot TO her, for I must still regard her As feminine in her degree, Who has been my unkind bombarder Year after year, in grief and glee, Year after year, with oaken tree; And yet betweenwhiles my laudator In terms astonishing to me – To the Right Reverend The Spectator I here, a humble dedicator, Bring […]...
29. Every Man Should have a Rifle So I sit and write and ponder, while the house is deaf and dumb, Seeing visions “over yonder” of the war I know must come. In the corner – not a vision – but a sign for coming days Stand a box of ammunition and a rifle in green baize. And in this, the living […]...
30. Tz'u No. 12 To the tune of “Happy Event Is Nigh” The wind ceases; fallen flowers pile high. Outside my screen, petals collect in heaps of red And snow-white. This reminds me that after the blooming Of the cherry-apple tree It is time to lament the dying spring. Singing and drinking have come to an end; Jade cups […]...
31. 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...
32. Seeking Beauty Cold winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see. To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass, Makes my whole body shake; for here’s my choice Of […]...
33. A New Year's Message To Joseph Mazzini Send the stars light, but send not love to me. Shelley. I Out of the dawning heavens that hear Young wings and feet of the new year Move through their twilight, and shed round Soft showers of sound, Soothing the season with sweet rain, If greeting come to make me fain, What is it I […]...
34. Historion No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and […]...
35. Fluttered Wings The splendour of the kindling day, The splendor of the setting sun, These move my soul to wend its way, And have done With all we grasp and toil amongst and say. The paling roses of a cloud, The fading bow that arches space, These woo my fancy toward my shroud, Toward the place Of […]...
36. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
37. "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 […]...
38. The bottle tree A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land – Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! A snug little berth in that ship I demand That rocketh the Bottle-Tree babies away Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand; You take of that fruit as much […]...
39. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
40. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...