A Work Of Artifice

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1. Wallace Stevens On His Way To Work He would leave early and walk slowly As if balancing books On the way to school, already expecting To be tardy once again and heavy With numbers, the unfashionably rounded Toes of his shoes invisible beyond The slope of his corporation. He would pause At his favorite fundamentally sound Park bench, which had been the […]...
2. The Seven Of Pentacles Under a sky the color of pea soup She is looking at her work growing away there Actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans As things grow in the real world, slowly enough. If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water, If you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter […]...
3. Nostos There was an apple tree in the yard This would have been Forty years ago behind, Only meadows. Drifts Of crocus in the damp grass. I stood at that window: Late April. Spring Flowers in the neighbor’s yard. How many times, really, did the tree Flower on my birthday, The exact day, not Before, not […]...
4. In a Garden When the gardener has gone this garden Looks wistful and seems waiting an event. It is so spruce, a metaphor of Eden And even more so since the gardener went, Quietly godlike, but of course, he had Not made me promise anything and I Had no one tempting me to make the bad Choice. Yet […]...
5. The Funeral Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair which crowns my arm; The mystery, the sign, you must not touch, For ’tis my outward Soul, Viceroy to that which then to heaven being gone Will leave this to control And keep these limbs, her Provinces, from dissolution. […]...
6. Mr. Brain Mr Brain was a hermit dwarf who liked to eat shellfish off The moon. He liked to go into a tree then because there is a Little height to see a little further, which may reveal now the Stone, a pebble it is a twig, it is nothing under the moon that You can make […]...
7. What Work Is We stand in the rain in a long line Waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work. You know what work is if you’re Old enough to read this you know what Work is, although you may not do it. Forget you. This is about waiting, Shifting from one foot to another. Feeling the light rain […]...
8. Ordinary Love Indescribable our love and still we say With eyes averted, turning out the light, “I love you,” in the ordinary way And tug the coverlet where once we lay, All suntanned limbs entangled, shivering, white… Indescribably in love. Or so we say. Your hair’s blonde thicket now is tangle-gray; You turn your back; you murmur […]...
9. Work chapter VII Then a ploughman said, “Speak to us of Work.” And he answered, saying: You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth. For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission […]...
10. Christ Crucified THY restless feet now cannot go For us and our eternal good, As they were ever wont. What though They swim, alas! in their own flood? Thy hands to give Thou canst not lift, Yet will Thy hand still giving be; It gives, but O, itself’s the gift! It gives tho’ bound, tho’ bound ’tis […]...
11. Making It Work 3-foot blue cannisters of nitro Along a conveyor belt, slow fish Speaking the language of silence. On the roof, I in my respirator Patching the asbestos gas lines As big around as the thick waist Of an oak tree. “These here are The veins of the place, stuff Inside’s the blood.” We work in rain, […]...
12. Work I caught rumours of some internal hearing Then you appeared with tears squeezing your eyes, Hands scrunched up like a child’s, rice paper skin. That work mates complained was a big surprise As you were office sunshine, shafted no-one, And turned your quick mind to the broadest cause. But there you were, a whisper finished…gone, […]...
13. Spirit whose Work is Done SPIRIT whose work is done! spirit of dreadful hours! Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet onward ever unfaltering pressing;) Spirit of many a solemn day, and many a savage scene! Electric spirit! That with muttering voice, through the war now closed, like a tireless […]...
14. Work And Joy Each day I live I thank the Lord I do the work I love; And in it find a rich reward, All price and praise above. For few may do the work they love, The fond unique employ, That fits them as a hand a glove, And gives them joy. Oh gentlefolk, do you and […]...
15. The Beginning Some day I shall rise and leave my friends And seek you again through the world’s far ends, You whom I found so fair (Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!), My only god in the days that were. My eager feet shall find you again, Though the sullen years and the mark […]...
16. The Day's Work We now, held in captivity, Spring to our bondage nor grieve See now, how it is blesseder, Brothers, to give than receive! Keep trust, wherefore we were made, Paying the debt that we owe; For a clean thrust, and the shear of the blade, Will carry us where would go. The Ship that Found Herself. […]...
17. The Gardener X: Let Your Work Be, Bride Let your work be, bride. Listen, the Guest has come. Do you hear, he is gently shaking The chain which fastens the door? See that your anklets make no loud Noise, and that your step is not over- Hurried at meeting him. Let your work be, bride, the guest Had come in the evening. No, […]...
18. A Form Of Women I have come far enough From where I was not before To have seen the things Looking in at me from through the open door And have walked tonight By myself To see the moonlight And see it as trees And shapes more fearful Because I feared What I did not know But have wanted […]...
19. The Furies Not a third that walks beside me, But five or six or more. Whether at dusk or daybreak Or at blinding noon, a retinue Of shadows that no door Excludes. One like a kind of scrawl, Hands scrawled trembling and blue, A harelipped and hunchbacked dwarf With a smile like a grapefruit rind, Who jabbers […]...
20. Trying To Pray This time, I have left my body behind me, crying In its dark thorns. Still, There are good things in this world. It is dusk. It is the good darkness Of women’s hands that touch loaves. The spirit of a tree begins to move. I touch leaves. I close my eyes and think of water....
21. Work Gangs BOX cars run by a mile long. And I wonder what they say to each other When they stop a mile long on a sidetrack. Maybe their chatter goes: I came from Fargo with a load of wheat up to the danger line. I came from Omaha with a load of shorthorns and they splintered […]...
22. Work Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, “This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; “Of all who live, I […]...
23. The Gardener The gardener does not love to talk, He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the key. Away behind the currant row Where no one else but cook may go, Far in the plots, I see him dig Old and serious, brown and […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. The Gardener XXXIV: Do Not Go, My Love Do not go, my love, without asking My leave. I have watched all night, and now My eyes are heavy with sleep. I fear lest I lose you when I’m Sleeping. Do not go, my love, without asking My leave. I start up and stretch my hands to Touch you. I ask myself, “Is it […]...
26. Hope The Tree of Knowledge we in Eden prov’d; The Tree of Life was thence to Heav’n remov’d: Hope is the growth of Earth, the only Plant, Which either Heav’n, or Paradise cou’d want. Hell knows it not, to Us alone confin’d, And Cordial only to the Human Mind. Receive it then, t’expel these mortal Cares, […]...
27. The Friend We sat across the table. He said, cut off your hands. They are always poking at things. They might touch me. I said yes. Food grew cold on the table. He said, burn your body. It is not clean and smells like sex. It rubs my mind sore. I said yes. I love you, I […]...
28. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 118. Contemplate all this work of Tim Contemplate all this work of Time, The giant labouring in his youth; Nor dream of human love and truth, As dying Nature’s earth and lime; But trust that those we call the dead Are breathers of an ampler day For ever nobler ends. They say, The solid earth whereon we tread In tracts of fluent […]...
29. An Appointment Being out of heart with government I took a broken root to fling Where the proud, wayward squirrel went, Taking delight that he could spring; And he, with that low whinnying sound That is like laughter, sprang again And so to the other tree at a bound. Nor the tame will, nor timid brain, Nor […]...
30. Winter in the Country Sweet life! how lovely to be here And feel the soft sea-laden breeze Strike my flushed face, the spruce’s fair Free limbs to see, the lesser trees’ Bare hands to touch, the sparrow’s cheep To heed, and watch his nimble flight Above the short brown grass asleep. Love glorious in his friendly might, Music that […]...
31. Modern Love XIII: I Play for Seasons, Not Eternities ‘I play for Seasons; not Eternities!’ Says Nature, laughing on her way. ‘So must All those whose stake is nothing more than dust!’ And lo, she wins, and of her harmonies She is full sure! Upon her dying rose, She drops a look of fondness, and goes by, Scarce any retrospection in her eye; For […]...
32. The Song of the Garden-Toad Down, down beneath the daisy beds, O hear the cries of pain! And moaning on the cinder-path They’re blind amid the rain. Can murmurs of the worms arise To higher hearts than mine? I wonder if that gardener hears Who made the mold all fine And packed each gentle seedling down So carefully in line? […]...
33. Song of the Little White Girl Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter? Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter? Because it is just a white baby you see, And it’s the black ones you like, cabbage tree? Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you’re a strange fellow With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow. Wouldn’t you like to […]...
34. Astrophel and Stella VII: WhenNature Made her Chief Work When Nature made her chief work, Stella’s eyes, In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright? Would she in beamy black, like painter wise, Frame daintiest lustre, mix’d of shades and light? Or did she else that sober hue devise, In object best to knit and strength our sight; Lest, if no veil these […]...
35. Hotel Insomnia I liked my little hole, Its window facing a brick wall. Next door there was a piano. A few evenings a month A crippled old man came to play “My Blue Heaven.” Mostly, though, it was quiet. Each room with its spider in heavy overcoat Catching his fly with a web Of cigarette smoke and […]...
36. La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For, calling on my Lady’s name, My lips have now forgot to sing. O Linnet in the wild-rose brake Strain for my Love thy melody, O Lark sing louder for love’s sake, My gentle Lady passeth by. She is too fair for […]...
37. Trees (For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden) I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest […]...
38. Castile Orange blossoms blowing over Castile Children begging for coins I met my love under an orange tree Or was it an acacia tree Or was he not my love? I read this, then I dreamed this: Can waking take back what happened to me? Bells of San Miguel Ringing in the distance His hair in […]...
39. Mind Games I am a waterfall in the desert. A rain from a cloudless sky. A well known but unborn child. An insistence experience That you never had. I play mind games with your brain. When you strike the keys and remember the sea I come as indefinable memory. When you look at your watch And the […]...
40. Reconciliation I BEGIN through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord; I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest Of the earth, of the mother, my heart with her heart in accord, As I lie ‘mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast I begin with […]...