Late, Late, So Late

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1. Tho' I get home how late how late Tho’ I get home how late how late So I get home – ’twill compensate Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me When Night descending dumb and dark They hear my unexpected knock Transporting must the moment be Brewed from decades of Agony! To think just how the fire will burn […]...
2. Late Leaves THE leaves are falling; so am I; The few late flowers have moisture in the eye; So have I too. Scarcely on any bough is heard Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird The whole wood through. Winter may come: he brings but nigher His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire Where old friends meet. Let him; […]...
3. Late Love How they strut about, people in love, How tall they grow, pleased with themselves, Their hair, glossy, their skin shining. They don’t remember who they have been. How filmic they are just for this time. How important they’ve become – secret, above The order of things, the dreary mundane. Every church bell ringing, a fresh […]...
4. Late, O Miller LATE, O miller, The birds are silent, The darkness falls. In the house the lights are lighted. See, in the valley they twinkle, The lights of home. Late, O lovers, The night is at hand; Silence and darkness Clothe the land....
5. My Mother On An Evening In Late Summer 1 When the moon appears And a few wind-stricken barns stand out In the low-domed hills And shine with a light That is veiled and dust-filled And that floats upon the fields, My mother, with her hair in a bun, Her face in shadow, and the smoke From their cigarette coiling close To the faint […]...
6. Late Late have I called & Late my Beloved Was blessing me I was covering My breasts with my arms “Those doves” you said In the sun I took my arms away...
7. The Too-Late Born We too, we too, descending once again The hills of our own land, we too have heard Far off – Ah, que ce cor a longue haleine – The horn of Roland in the passages of Spain, The first, the second blast, the failing third, And with the third turned back and climbed once more […]...
8. The Late Singer Here it is spring again And I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on his breast Has been at his cadenzas for two weeks past: What is it that is dragging at my heart? The grass by the back door Is stiff with sap. The […]...
9. Victory comes late Victory comes late And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost To take it How sweet it would have tasted Just a Drop Was God so economical? His Table’s spread too high for Us Unless We dine on tiptoe Crumbs fit such little mouths Cherries suit Robbins The Eagle’s Golden Breakfast strangles […]...
10. Late Spring I Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, Why the sweet Spring delays, And where she hides, the dear desire Of every heart that longs For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby fire Of maple-buds along the misty hills, And that immortal call which fills The waiting wood with songs? The snow-drops came […]...
11. It was too late for Man It was too late for Man But early, yet, for God Creation impotent to help But Prayer remained Our Side How excellent the Heaven When Earth cannot be had How hospitable then the face Of our Old Neighbor God...
12. Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestus from the grave, Who Jove’s great Son to her glad Husband gave, Rescu’d from death by force though pale and faint. Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the old Law did save, And such as yet once more […]...
13. Late Evening Song For a while Let it be enough: The responsive smile, Though effort goes into it. Across the warm room Shared in candlelight, This look beyond shame, Possible now, at night, Goes out to yours. Hidden by day And shaped by fires Grown dead, gone gray, That burned in other rooms I knew Too long ago […]...
14. Late Autumn In Venice (After Rilke) The city floats no longer like a bait To hook the nimble darting summer days. The glazed and brittle palaces pulsate and radiate And glitter. Summer’s garden sways, A heap of marionettes hanging down and dangled, Leaves tired, torn, turned upside down and strangled: Until from forest depths, from bony leafless trees A […]...
15. In A Gondola The moth’s kiss, first! Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure, this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed Its petals up; so, here and there You brush it, till I grow aware Who wants me, and wide open I burst. The bee’s kiss, now! Kiss me as if you […]...
16. Late Light Rain filled the streets Once a year, rising almost To door and window sills, Battering walls and roofs Until it cleaned away the mess We’d made. My father told Me this, he told me it ran Downtown and spilled into The river, which in turn Emptied finally into the sea. He said this only once […]...
17. 312. Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of Monboddo LIFE ne’er exulted in so rich a prize, As Burnet, lovely from her native skies; Nor envious death so triumph’d in a blow, As that which laid th’ accomplish’d Burnet low. Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? In richest ore the brightest jewel set! In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, […]...
18. The Funeral of the Late Ex-Provost Rough, Dundee ‘Twas in the year of 1888, and on the 19th of November, Which the friends of the late Ex-Provost Rough will long remember, Because ’twas on the 19th of November his soul took its flight To the happy land above, the land of pure delight. Take him for all in all, he was a very […]...
19. Poems Done on a Late Night Car I. CHICKENS I am The Great White Way of the city: When you ask what is my desire, I answer: “Girls fresh as country wild flowers, With young faces tired of the cows and barns, Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries, Slender supple girls with shapely legs, Lure in the […]...
20. Late Ripeness Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a door opening in me and I entered The clarity of early morning. One after another my former lives were departing, Like ships, together with their sorrow. And the countries, cities, gardens, the bays of seas Assigned to my brush came closer, […]...
21. Late September Tang of fruitage in the air; Red boughs bursting everywhere; Shimmering of seeded grass; Hooded gentians all a’mass. Warmth of earth, and cloudless wind Tearing off the husky rind, Blowing feathered seeds to fall By the sun-baked, sheltering wall. Beech trees in a golden haze; Hardy sumachs all ablaze, Glowing through the silver birches. How […]...
22. The Sea's Wash In The Hollow Of The Heart Turn from that road’s beguiling ease; return To your hunger’s turret. Enter, climb the stair Chill with disuse, where the croaking toad of time Regards from shimmering eyes your slow ascent And the drip, drip, of darkness glimmers on the stone To show you how your longing waits alone. What alchemy shines from under that […]...
23. In the Dark Pine-Wood In the dark pine-wood I would we lay, In deep cool shadow At noon of day. How sweet to lie there, Sweet to kiss, Where the great pine-forest Enaisled is! Thy kiss descending Sweeter were With a soft tumult Of thy hair. O unto the pine-wood At noon of day Come with me now, Sweet […]...
24. Opposition Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill, Complain no more; for these, O heart, Direct the random of the will As rhymes direct the rage of art. The lute’s fixt fret, that runs athwart The strain and purpose of the string, For governance and nice consort Doth bar his wilful wavering. The dark hath […]...
25. The Funeral of the Late Prince Henry of Battenberg Alas! Prince Henry of Battenberg is dead! And, I hope, has gone to heaven, its streets to tread, And to sing with God’s saints above, Where all is joy and peace and love. ‘Twas in the year of 1896, and on the 5th of February, Prince Henry was buried at Whippingham – a solemn sight […]...
26. You, Andrew Marvell And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth’s noonward height To feel the always coming on The always rising of the night To feel creep up the curving east The earthy chill of dusk and slow Upon those under lands the vast And ever climbing shadow grow And strange at Ecbatan the […]...
27. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
28. The Sunset Years of Samuel Shy Master I may be, But not of my fate. Now come the kisses, too many too late. Tell me, O Parcae, For fain would I know, Where were these kisses three decades ago? Girls there were plenty, Mint julep girls, beer girls, Gay younger married and headstrong career girls, The girls of my friends And […]...
29. Late Autumn October – and the skies are cool and gray O’er stubbles emptied of their latest sheaf, Bare meadow, and the slowly falling leaf. The dignity of woods in rich decay Accords full well with this majestic grief That clothes our solemn purple hills to-day, Whose afternoon is hush’d, and wintry brief Only a robin sings […]...
30. The Merman I Who would be A merman bold, Sitting alone Singing alone Under the sea, With a crown of gold, On a throne? II I would be a merman bold, I would sit and sing the whole of the day; I would fill the sea-halls with a voice of power; But at night I would roam […]...
31. Her Late Husband (King's-Hintock, 182-.) “No not where I shall make my own; But dig his grave just by The woman’s with the initialed stone – As near as he can lie – After whose death he seemed to ail, Though none considered why. “And when I also claim a nook, And your feet tread me in, Bestow me, under […]...
32. Weary Some praise the Lord for Light, The living spark; I thank God for the Night The healing dark. When wearily I lie, With aching sight, With what thanksgiving I Turn out the light! When to night’s drowsy deep Serene I sink, How glad am I to sleep, To cease to think! From care and fret […]...
33. Song VII: Dawn Talks to Day Dawn talks to Day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet And with dreams thine eyes glistening, Thy still lips are sweet Though the world is a-listening. O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting, Cast thine arms round about me to stay my […]...
34. To The Right Honourable The Lady Penelope Dowager Of The Late Vis-Count Bayning Great Lady, Humble partners of like griefe In bringing Comfort may deserve beliefe, Because they Feele and Feyne not: Thus we say Unto Ourselves, Lord Bayning, though away, Is still of Christ-Church; somewhat out of sight, As when he travel’d, or did bid good night, And was not seen long after; now he stands Remov’d […]...
35. Prayer XXIII Then a priestess said, “Speak to us of Prayer.” And he answered, saying: You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance. For what is prayer but the expansion of yourself into the living ether? And if […]...
36. Some time Last night, my darling, as you slept, I thought I heard you sigh, And to your little crib I crept, And watched a space thereby; And then I stooped and kissed your brow, For oh! I love you so You are too young to know it now, But some time you shall know! Some time […]...
37. Late Summer (ALCAICS) Confused, he found her lavishing feminine Gold upon clay, and found her inscrutable; And yet she smiled. Why, then, should horrors Be as they were, without end, her playthings? And why were dead years hungrily telling her Lies of the dead, who told them again to her? If now she knew, there might be […]...
38. The Other One “Gather around me, children dear; The wind is high and the night is cold; Closer, little ones, snuggle near; Let’s seek a story of ages old; A magic tale of a bygone day, Of lovely ladies and dragons dread; Come, for you’re all so tired of play, We’ll read till it’s time to go to […]...
39. 278. On the late Captain Grose's Peregrinations HEAR, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots, Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat’s;- If there’s a hole in a’ your coats, I rede you tent it: A chield’s amang you takin notes, And, faith, he’ll prent it: If in your bounds ye chance to light Upon a fine, fat fodgel wight, O’ stature short, but genius […]...
40. The Round Light splashed this morning On the shell-pink anemones Swaying on their tall stems; Down blue-spiked veronica Light flowed in rivulets Over the humps of the honeybees; This morning I saw light kiss The silk of the roses In their second flowering, My late bloomers Flushed with their brandy. A curious gladness shook me. So I […]...