To My Little Niece Sally Livingston

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1. To My Little Niece Anne Duyckinck To his charming black-eyed niece Uncle Harry wishest peace! Wishes roses over strow’d O’er her sublunary road! No rude winds around her howl, O’er her head no tempests scowl; No red lightnings flash around, No loud thunders rock the ground! Bright has been her morning sun, Brighter still be that to come! All a blue […]...
2. To the Memory of Sarah Livingston BEYOND where billows roll or tempests vex Is gone the gentlest of the gentle sex! – Her brittle bark on life’s wild ocean tost Unequal to the conflict soon was lost. Severe her sufferings! much, alas, she bore, Then sunk beneath the storm & rose no more. But when th’ Archangel’s awful trump shall sound […]...
3. To the Memory of Henry Welles Livingston A gentle spirit now above Once animated what lies here Till heav’n announc’d in tenderest love “Ascend Immortal to yon sphere.” The lambkin at the great behest Gave up its life without one groan; When lo! In robes supernal drest He found the bright abodes his own! Most glorious and delightful scenes Rush’d full upon […]...
4. Faithless Sally Brown Young Ben he was a nice young man, A carpenter by trade; And he fell in love with Sally Brown, That was a lady’s maid. But as they fetch’d a walk one day, They met a press-gang crew; And Sally she did faint away, Whilst Ben he was brought to. The Boatswain swore with wicked […]...
5. The Echoing Green The Sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring, To welcome the Spring. The sky-lark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around, To the bells cheerful sound. While our sports shall be seen On the Echoing Green. Old John, with white hair Does laugh away care, Sitting under […]...
6. 374. Song-O can ye Labour Lea? Chorus-O can ye labour lea, young man, O can ye labour lea? It fee nor bountith shall us twine Gin ye can labour lea. I FEE’D a man at Michaelmas, Wi’ airle pennies three; But a’ the faut I had to him, He could na labour lea, O can ye labour lea, &c. O clappin’s […]...
7. I know why the caged bird sings A free bird leaps on the back Of the wind and floats downstream Till the current ends and dips his wing In the orange suns rays And dares to claim the sky. But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage Can seldom see through his bars of rage His wings are clipped and his […]...
8. The Wind that Shakes the Barley There’s music in my heart all day, I hear it late and early, It comes from fields are far away, The wind that shakes the barley. Above the uplands drenched with dew The sky hangs soft and pearly, An emerald world is listening to The wind that shakes the barley. Above the bluest mountain crest […]...
9. Poor Peter Blind Peter Piper used to play All up and down the city; I’d often meet him on my way, And throw a coin for pity. But all amid his sparkling tones His ear was quick as any To catch upon the cobble-stones The jingle of my penny. And as upon a day that shone He […]...
10. Lament Where are those dazzling hills touched by the sun, Those crags in childhood that I used to climb? Hidden, hidden under mist is yonder mountain, Hidden is the heart. A day of cloud, a lifetime falls between, Gone are the heather moors and the pure stream, Gone are the rocky places and the green, Hidden, […]...
11. The Willow Who shall sing a simple ditty about the Willow, Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray That dandles high the dainty bird that flutters there to trill a Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May. Bravest, too, of all the trees! none to match your daring, First of greens to greet the Spring and […]...
12. Meaning When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset. The true meaning, ready to be decoded. What never added up will add Up, What was incomprehensible will be comprehended. – And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is […]...
13. THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT ON yonder lofty mountain A thousand times I stand, And on my staff reclining, Look down on the smiling land. My grazing flocks then I follow, My dog protecting them well; I find myself in the valley, But how, I scarcely can tell. The whole of the meadow is cover’d With flowers of beauty rare; […]...
14. A Song of the English Fair is our lot O goodly is our heritage! (Humble ye, my people, and be fearful in your mirth!) For the Lord our God Most High He hath made the deep as dry, He hath smote for us a pathway to the ends of all the Earth! Yea, though we sinned and our rulers went […]...
15. Come In As I came to the edge of the woods, Thrush music hark! Now if it was dusk outside, Inside it was dark. Too dark in the woods for a bird By sleight of wing To better its perch for the night, Though it still could sing. The last of the light of the sun That […]...
16. Dark Truth Birds have no consciousness of doom: Yon thrush that serenades me daily From scented snow of hawthorn bloom Would not trill out his glee so gaily, Could he foretell his songful breath Would sadly soon be stilled in death. Yon lambs that frolic on the lea And incarnate the joy of life, Would scarce disport […]...
17. A Serenade Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh The sun has left the lea, The orange-flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea. The lark, his lay who trill’d all day, Sits hush’d his partner nigh; Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, But where is County Guy? The village maid steals through the […]...
18. A Villanelle O singer of Persephone! In the dim meadows desolate Dost thou remember Sicily? Still through the ivy flits the bee Where Amaryllis lies in state; O Singer of Persephone! Simaetha calls on Hecate And hears the wild dogs at the gate; Dost thou remember Sicily? Still by the light and laughing sea Poor Polypheme bemoans […]...
19. Went up a year this evening! Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell! Cheerful as to the village Tranquil as to repose Chastened as to the Chapel This humble Tourist rose! Did not talk of returning! Alluded to no time When, were the gales propitious We might look for […]...
20. Recompense I saw two sowers in Life’s field at morn, To whom came one in angel guise and said, “Is it for labour that a man is born? Lo: I am Ease. Come ye and eat my bread!” Then gladly one forsook his task undone And with the Tempter went his slothful way, The other toiled […]...
21. Lost You left me with the autumn time; When the winter stripped the forest bare, Then dressed it in his spotless rime; When frosts were lurking in the air You left me here and went away. The winds were cold; you could not stay. You sought a warmer clime, until The south wind, artful maid, should […]...
22. Nymphs Where are ye now, O beautiful girls of the mountain, Oreads all? Nothing at all stirs here save the drip of the fountain; Answers our call Only the heart-glad thrush, in the Vale of Thrushes; Stirs in the brake But the dew-bright ear of the hare in his couch of rushes Listening, awake....
23. Magdalen Walks The little white clouds are racing over the sky, And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March, The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by. A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning Breeze, The odour of […]...
24. The Mountain Sprite In yonder valley there dwelt, alone, A youth, whose moments had calmly flown, ‘Till spells came o’er him, and, day and night, He was haunted and watch’d by a Mountain Sprite. As once, by moonlight, he wander’d o’er The golden sands of that Island shore, A foot-print sparkled before his sight ‘Twas the fairy foot […]...
25. When on a Summer's Morn When on a summer’s morn I wake, And open my two eyes, Out to the clear, born-singing rills My bird-like spirit flies. To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or any bird in song; And common leaves that hum all day Without a throat or tongue. And when Time strikes the hour for sleep, Back in […]...
26. The Wandering Bard What life like that of the bard can be The wandering bard, who roams as free As the mountain lark that o’er him sings, And, like that lark a music brings, Within him, where’er he comes or goes A fount that for ever flows! The world’s to him like some playground, Where fairies dance their […]...
27. Captivity O meadow lark, so wild and free, It cannot be, it cannot be, That men to merchandise your spell Do close you in a wicker hell! O hedgerow thrush so mad with glee, It cannot be, it cannot be, They rape you from your hawthorn foam To make a cell of steel your home! O […]...
28. Oft, in the Stilly Night Oft, in the stilly night, Ere slumber’s chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood’s years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm’d and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber’s chain […]...
29. A Precise Woman A precise woman with a short haircut brings order To my thoughts and my dresser drawers, Moves feelings around like furniture Into a new arrangement. A woman whose body is cinched at the waist and firmly divided Into upper and lower, With weather-forecast eyes Of shatterproof glass. Even her cries of passion follow a certain […]...
30. A Sane Revolution If you make a revolution, make it for fun, Don’t make it in ghastly seriousness, Don’t do it in deadly earnest, Do it for fun. Don’t do it because you hate people, Do it just to spit in their eye. Don’t do it for the money, Do it and be damned to the money. Don’t […]...
31. A Riddle: On A Kiss What thing is that, nor felt nor seene Till it bee given? a present for a Queene: A fine conceite to give and take the like: The giver yet is farther for to seeke; The taker doth possesse nothing the more, The giver hee hath nothing lesse in store: And given once that nature hath […]...
32. 25. My Father was a Farmer: A Ballad MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O, And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O; He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne’er a farthing, O; For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O. Then out into the world my course I did […]...
33. The stork Last night the Stork came stalking, And, Stork, beneath your wing Lay, lapped in dreamless slumber, The tiniest little thing! From Babyland, out yonder Beside a silver sea, You brought a priceless treasure As gift to mine and me! Last night my dear one listened – And, wife, you knew the cry – The dear […]...
34. ANACREON'S GRAVE HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are Twining, Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard, Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals Beauteously planted and deck’d? Here doth Anacreon sleep Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel, And from the winter […]...
35. O Singer in Brown O, singer in brown! O, bird o’ th’ morn! O, heart of delight In th’ deep o’ th’ thorn! Glad is thy song Thou joy o’ th’ morn, Thou palpitant throat In the heart o’ th’ thorn! Thy song of the nest, O, sweet o’ th’ morn! A nest and an egg In the thick […]...
36. Sad-Eyed and Soft and Grey Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn! Across the long grass of the marshy plain Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain, Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn Above the lush blades of the springing corn, Thy thrush within the high elms strives in vain To store up tales of […]...
37. Hymn 128 The apostles’ commission. Mark 16:15ff; Matt. 28:18ff. “O preach my gospel,” saith the Lord, “Bid the whole earth my grace receive; He shall be saved that trusts my word, He shall be damned that won’t believe. “I’ll make your great commission known, And ye shall prove my gospel true, By all the works that I […]...
38. Why Do Birds Sing? Let poets piece prismatic words, Give me the jewelled joy of birds! What ecstasy moves them to sing? Is it the lyric glee of Spring, The dewy rapture of the rose? Is it the worship born in those Who are of Nature’s self a part, The adoration of the heart? Is it the mating mood […]...
39. BRIDE OF THE WIND for Brenda Both had come with no gardener but the soul; I had myself expressed them in weariness, Like the last drop of milk from your tired breast. The red rose was no rose for me. My black rose shone in a silver dawn In the throat of the wind. On the tongue of the […]...
40. The Shepherd's Tree Huge elm, with rifted trunk all notched and scarred, Like to a warrior’s destiny! I love To stretch me often on thy shadowed sward, And hear the laugh of summer leaves above; Or on thy buttressed roots to sit, and lean In careless attitude, and there reflect On times and deeds and darings that have […]...