A Request

Related poetry:

1. Virginibus Puerisque I care not that one listen if he lives For aught but life’s romance, nor puts above All life’s necessities the need to love, Nor counts his greatest wealth what Beauty gives. But sometime on an afternoon in spring, When dandelions dot the fields with gold, And under rustling shade a few weeks old ‘Tis […]...
2. Request to a Year If the year is meditating a suitable gift, I should like it to be the attitude Of my great – great – grandmother, Legendary devotee of the arts, Who having eight children And little opportunity for painting pictures, Sat one day on a high rock Beside a river in Switzerland And from a difficult distance […]...
3. Just Once! Oh least Request! Just Once! Oh least Request! Could Adamant refuse So small a Grace So scanty put, Such agonizing terms? Would not a God of Flint Be conscious of a sigh As down His Heaven dropt remote “Just Once” Sweet Deity?...
4. HIS REQUEST TO JULIA Julia, if I chance to die Ere I print my poetry, I most humbly thee desire To commit it to the fire: Better ’twere my book were dead, Than to live not perfected....
5. A REQUEST TO THE GRACES Ponder my words, if so that any be Known guilty here of incivility; Let what is graceless, discomposed, and rude, With sweetness, smoothness, softness be endued: Teach it to blush, to curtsey, lisp, and show Demure, but yet full of temptation, too. Numbers ne’er tickle, or but lightly plea{e, Unless they have some wanton carriages: […]...
6. HIS LAST REQUEST TO JULIA I have been wanton, and too bold, I fear, To chafe o’er-much the virgin’s cheek or ear; Beg for my pardon, Julia! he doth win Grace with the gods who’s sorry for his sin. That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, come, And go with me to chuse my burial room: My fates are ended; when […]...
7. Personal request for what my heart held clear And didn’t have the wit to show For what my path proposed And got lost in its diversions For what my beginnings dreamed And my ends cannot lay hold of For what promises i made And have not had the shine to keep to I ask your understanding For […]...
8. In Answer to a Request You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my Dear, Can clocks tick back to yesterday at noon? Can cracked and fallen leaves recall last June And leap up on the boughs, now stiff and sere? For your sake, I would go and seek the year, Faded beyond the purple ranks of dune, Blown sands of […]...
9. Before Storm There’s a grayness over the harbor like fear on the face of a woman, The sob of the waves has a sound akin to a woman’s cry, And the deeps beyond the bar are moaning with evil presage Of a storm that will leap from its lair in that dour north-eastern sky. Slowly the pale […]...
10. Do You Hear The Angel Speaking? Do you hear the angel speaking? Do you hear her heavenly voice? Do you hear the song she’s singing? Will you help her to rejoice? Do you hear her when you’re weary And find it hard to cope? Do you hear her inspiration and Her messages of hope? Do you hear her voice of wisdom… […]...
11. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 01: The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light. The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east: And lights wink out through the windows, one by one. A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night. Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun. And the wandering one, the inquisitive […]...
12. The House Of Dust: Part 04: 07: The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light. The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east: And lights wink out through the windows, one by one. A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night. Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun. And the wandering one, the inquisitive […]...
13. Eudaemon O happiness, I know not what far seas, Blue hills and deep, thy sunny realms surround, That thus in Music’s wistful harmonies And concert of sweet sound A rumor steals, from some uncertain shore, Of lovely things outworn or gladness yet in store: Whether thy beams be pitiful and come, Across the sundering of vanished […]...
14. To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the N Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion’s lofty temples robed in fire, Ilion falling, Rome arising, Wars, and filial faith, and Dido’s pyre; Landscape-lover, lord of language More than he that sang the “Works and Days,” All the chosen coin of fancy Flashing out from many a golden phrase; Thou that singest wheat and woodland, Tilth […]...
15. Footsteps On an ebony bed decorated With coral eagles, sound asleep lies Nero unconscious, quiet, and blissful; Thriving in the vigor of flesh, And in the splendid power of youth. But in the alabaster hall that encloses The ancient shrine of the Aenobarbi How restive are his Lares. The little household gods tremble, And try to […]...
16. In an Old Farmhouse Outside the afterlight’s lucent rose Is smiting the hills and brimming the valleys, And shadows are stealing across the snows; From the mystic gloom of the pineland alleys. Glamour of mingled night and day Over the wide, white world has sway, And through their prisoning azure bars, Gaze the calm, cold eyes of the early […]...
17. Voices of the Air But then there comes that moment rare When, for no cause that I can find, The little voices of the air Sound above all the sea and wind. The sea and wind do then obey And sighing, sighing double notes Of double basses, content to play A droning chord for the little throats The little […]...
18. For Little Things Last night I looked across the hills And through an arch of darkling pine Low-swung against a limpid west I saw a young moon shine. And as I gazed there blew a wind, Loosed where the sylvan shadows stir, Bringing delight to soul and sense The breath of dying fir. This morn I saw a […]...
19. Young Fellow My Lad “Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?” “I’m going to join the Colours, Dad; They’re looking for men, they say.” “But you’re only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad; You aren’t obliged to go.” “I’m seventeen and a quarter, Dad, And ever so strong, you know.” * * […]...
20. Down Stream Comrades, up! Let us row down stream in this first rare dawnlight, While far in the clear north-west the late moon whitens and wanes; Before us the sun will rise, deep-purpling headland and islet, It is well to meet him thus, with the life astir in our veins! The wakening birds will sing for us […]...
21. A Day in the Open Ho, a day Whereon we may up and away, With a fetterless wind that is out on the downs, And there piping a call to the fallow and shore, Where the sea evermore Surgeth over the gray reef, and drowns The fierce rocks with white foam; It is ours with untired feet to roam Where […]...
22. Shakespeare A vision as of crowded city streets, With human life in endless overflow; Thunder of thoroughfares; trumpets that blow To battle; clamor, in obscure retreats, Of sailors landed from their anchored fleets; Tolling of bells in turrets, and below Voices of children, and bright flowers that throw O’er garden-walls their intermingled sweets! This vision comes […]...
23. Far Away and Long Ago Far away and long ago, a young lady who had lost her way found herself wandering in a wood and met a young carpenter working on a cupboard by a simple cabin that he’d built himself, to whom after some hesitation she stroke a conversation: “Excuse me, Sir, but I have lost my way around. […]...
24. Denied The winds came out of the west one day, And hurried the clouds before them; And drove the shadows and mists away, And over the mountains bore them. And I wept, ‘Oh, wind, blow into my mind, Blow into my soul and heart, And scatter the clouds that hang lile shrouds, And make the shadows […]...
25. The Truce of Night Lo, it is dark, Save for the crystal spark Of a virgin star o’er the purpling lea, Or the fine, keen, silvery grace of a young Moon that is hung O’er the priest-like firs by the sea; Lo, it is still, Save for the wind of the hill, And the luring, primeval sounds that fill […]...
26. Mount Houvenkopf Serene he stands, with mist serenely crowned, And draws a cloak of trees about his breast. The thunder roars but cannot break his rest And from his rugged face the tempests bound. He does not heed the angry lightning’s wound, The raging blizzard is his harmless guest, And human life is but a passing jest […]...
27. Theme For English B The instructor said, Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple? I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem. I went to school there, then Durham, then here To this college on the hill above Harlem. I am […]...
28. An Old French Poet When in your sober mood my body have ye laid In sight and sound of things beloved, woodland and stream, And the green turf has hidden the poor bones ye deem No more a close companion with those rhymes we made; Then, if some bird should pipe, or breezes stir the glade, Thinking them for […]...
29. Wandering Singers WHERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet, Through echoing forest and echoing street, With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam, All men are our kindred, the world is our home. Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed, The laughter and beauty of women long dead; The sword of old […]...
30. The Lure Of Little Voices There’s a cry from out the loneliness oh, listen, Honey, listen! Do you hear it, do you fear it, you’re a-holding of me so? You’re a-sobbing in your sleep, dear, and your lashes, how they glisten Do you hear the Little Voices all a-begging me to go? All a-begging me to leave you. Day and […]...
31. On The Death Of A Favourite Old Spaniel And they have drown’d thee then at last! poor Phillis! The burthen of old age was heavy on thee. And yet thou should’st have lived! what tho’ thine eye Was dim, and watch’d no more with eager joy The wonted call that on thy dull sense sunk With fruitless repetition, the warm Sun Would still […]...
32. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
33. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
34. Willow And I grew up in patterned tranquillity, In the cool nursery of the young century. And the voice of man was not dear to me, But the voice of the wind I could understand. But best of all the silver willow. And obligingly, it lived With me all my life; it’s weeping branches Fanned my […]...
35. The Singing Silences WHILE the yellow constellations shine with pale and tender glory, In the lilac-scented stillness let us listen to earth’s story. All the flowers like moths a-flutter glimmer rich with dusky hues; Everywhere around us seem to fall from nowhere the sweet dews. Through the drowsy lull, the murmur, stir of leaf and sleepy hum, We […]...
36. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
37. Rain on the Hill Now on the hill The fitful wind is so still That never a wimpling mist uplifts, Nor a trembling leaf drop-laden stirs; From the ancient firs Aroma of balsam drifts, And the silent places are filled With elusive odors distilled By the rain from asters empearled and frilled, And a wild wet savor that dwells […]...
38. Rain Along Shore Wan white mists upon the sea, East wind harping mournfully All the sunken reefs along, Wail and heart-break in its song, But adown the placid bay Fisher-folk keep holiday. All the deeps beyond the bar Call and murmur from afar, ‘Plaining of a mighty woe Where the great ships come and go, But adown the […]...
39. Her Praise She is foremost of those that I would hear praised. I have gone about the house, gone up and down As a man does who has published a new book, Or a young girl dressed out in her new gown, And though I have turned the talk by hook or crook Until her praise should […]...
40. The Vagabonds We are the vagabonds of time, And rove the yellow autumn days, When all the roads are gray with rime And all the valleys blue with haze. We came unlooked for as the wind Trooping across the April hills, When the brown waking earth had dreams Of summer in the Wander Kills. How far afield […]...