The Seven Of Pentacles

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1. Weave in, Weave in, My Hardy Life WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life! Weave yet a soldier strong and full, for great campaigns to come; Weave in red blood! weave sinews in, like ropes! the senses, sight weave in! Weave lasting sure! weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant weave! tire not! (We know not what the use, O […]...
2. The Sugar-Plum Tree Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree? ‘T is a marvel of great renown! It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea In the garden of Shut-Eye Town; The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet (As those who have tasted it say) That good little children have only to eat Of […]...
3. Tree When the sun goes down I have my first drink Standing in the yard, Talking to my neighbor About the alder tree Rising between our houses, A lowly tree that prospered From our steady inattention And shot up quick as a weed To tower over our rooftops, Where it now brandishes A rich, luxuriant crown. […]...
4. Indian Weavers WEAVERS, weaving at break of day, Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . . Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild, We weave the robes of a new-born child. Weavers, weaving at fall of night, Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . . Like the plumes of a […]...
5. The Dinkey Bird In an ocean, ‘way out yonder, (As all sapient people know) Is the land of Wonder-Wander, Whither children love to go; It’s their playing, romping, swinging, That give great joy to me While the Dinkey-Bird goes singing In the amfalula tree! There the gum-drops grow like cherries, And taffy’s thick as peas Caramels you pick […]...
6. When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb, should you come To visit me, I will come forth with speed. You are for me the blast of the trumpet and the resurrection, So what shall I do? Dead or living, wherever you are, there am I. Without your lip I am a frozen and […]...
7. Part Of Speech …and when “the future” is uttered, swarms of mice Rush out of the Russian language and gnaw a piece Of ripened memory which is twice As hole-ridden as real cheese. After all these years it hardly matters who Or what stands in the corner, hidden by heavy drapes, And your mind resounds not with a […]...
8. Slow Spring O year, grow slowly. Exquisite, holy, The days go on With almonds showing the pink stars blowing And birds in the dawn. Grow slowly, year, like a child that is dear, Or a lamb that is mild, By little steps, and by little skips, Like a lamb or a child....
9. Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live Lift not the painted veil which those who live Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there, And it but mimic all we would believe With colours idly spread, behind, lurk Fear And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave Their shadows, o’er the chasm, sightless and drear. I knew one who had lifted it he […]...
10. Instants If I could live again my life, In the next – I’ll try, – to make more mistakes, I won’t try to be so perfect, I’ll be more relaxed, I’ll be more full – than I am now, In fact, I’ll take fewer things seriously, I’ll be less hygenic, I’ll take more risks, I’ll take […]...
11. The Maple Tree The Maple with its tassell flowers of green That turns to red, a stag horn shapèd seed Just spreading out its scallopped leaves is seen, Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green. Bark ribb’d like corderoy in seamy screed That farther up the stem is smoother seen, Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers Up […]...
12. The Girt Woak Tree The girt woak tree that’s in the dell! There’s noo tree I do love so well; Vor times an’ times when I wer young I there’ve a-climb’d, an’ there’ve a-zwung, An’ pick’d the eacorns green, a-shed In wrestlen storms from his broad head, An’ down below’s the cloty brook Where I did vish with line […]...
13. Dow Kritt Samuel is forever talking of his elm But I did not need to die to learn about roots: I, who dug all the ditches about Spoon River. Look at my elm! Sprung from as good a seed as his, Sown at the same time, It is dying at the top: Not from lack of life, […]...
14. Suttee LAMP of my life, the lips of Death Hath blown thee out with their sudden breath; Naught shall revive thy vanished spark. . . Love, must I dwell in the living dark? Tree of my life, Death’s cruel foot Hath crushed thee down to thy hidden root; Nought shall restore thy glory fled. . . […]...
15. The Maple The Maple Is a system of posture for wood. A way of not falling down For twigs that happens To benefit birds. I don’t know. I’m staring at a tree, At yellow leaves Threshed by wind and want you Reading this to be staring At the same tree. I could Cut it down and laminate […]...
16. Evening The sky puts on the darkening blue coat Held for it by a row of ancient trees; You watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight, One journeying to heaven, one that falls; And leave you, not at home in either one, Not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses, Not calling […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. Lenten Flowers Primrose, anemone, bluebell, moss Grow in the Kingdom of the Cross And the ash-tree’s purple bud Dresses the spear that sheds his blood. With the thorns that pierce his brow Soft encircling petals grow For in each flower the secret lies Of the tree that crucifies. Garden by the water clear All must die who […]...
19. The White Room The obvious is difficult To prove. Many prefer The hidden. I did, too. I listened to the trees. They had a secret Which they were about to Make known to me And then didn’t. Summer came. Each tree On my street had its own Scheherazade. My nights Were a part of their wild Storytelling. We […]...
20. We grow accustomed to the Dark We grow accustomed to the Dark When light is put away As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp To witness her Goodbye A Moment We uncertain step For newness of the night Then fit our Vision to the Dark And meet the Road erect And so of larger Darkness Those Evenings of the Brain When […]...
21. Tom's Little Dog Tom told his dog called Tim to beg, And up at once he sat, His two clear amber eyes fixed fast, His haunches on his mat. Tom poised a lump of sugar on His nose; then, “Trust!” says he; Stiff as a guardsman sat his Tim; Never a hair stirred he. “Paid for!” says Tom; […]...
22. Plaster “I KNEW a real man once,” says Agatha in the splendor of a shagbark hickory tree. Did a man touch his lips to Agatha? Did a man hold her in his arms? Did a man only look at her and pass by? Agatha, far past forty in a splendor of remembrance, says, “I knew a […]...
23. I think to Live may be a Bliss I think to Live may be a Bliss To those who dare to try Beyond my limit to conceive My lip to testify I think the Heart I former wore Could widen till to me The Other, like the little Bank Appear unto the Sea I think the Days could every one In Ordination stand […]...
24. At Bessemer 19 years old and going nowhere, I got a ride to Bessemer and walked The night road toward Birmingham Passing dark groups of men cursing The end of a week like every week. Out of town I found a small grove Of trees, high narrow pines, and I Sat back against the trunk of one […]...
25. The Precinct. Rochester The tall yellow hollyhocks stand, Still and straight, With their round blossoms spread open, In the quiet sunshine. And still is the old Roman wall, Rough with jagged bits of flint, And jutting stones, Old and cragged, Quite still in its antiquity. The pear-trees press their branches against it, And feeling it warm and kindly, […]...
26. Madmen They say you can jinx a poem If you talk about it before it is done. If you let it out too early, they warn, Your poem will fly away, And this time they are absolutely right. Take the night I mentioned to you I wanted to write about the madmen, As the newspapers so […]...
27. A Girl The tree has entered my hands, The sap has ascended my arms, The tree has grown in my breast – Downward, The branches grow out of me, like arms. Tree you are, Moss you are, You are violets with wind above them. A child – so high – you are, And all this is folly […]...
28. Ignorance Strange to know nothing, never to be sure Of what is true or right or real, But forced to qualify or so I feel, Or Well, it does seem so: Someone must know. Strange to be ignorant of the way things work: Their skill at finding what they need, Their sense of shape, and punctual […]...
29. Yes! No! How necessary it is to have opinions! I think the spotted trout Lilies are satisfied, standing a few inches above the earth. I Think serenity is not something you just find in the world, Like a plum tree, holding up its white petals. The violets, along the river, are opening their blue faces, like Small […]...
30. About My Poetry I have no silver-saddled horse to ride, No inheritance to live on, Neither riches no real-estate A pot of honey is all I own. A pot of honey red as fire! My honey is my everything. I guard My riches and my real-estate my honey pot, I mean From pests of every species, Brother, just […]...
31. The River Of Bees In a dream I returned to the river of bees Five orange trees by the bridge and Beside two mills my house Into whose courtyard a blind man followed The goats and stood singing Of what was older Soon it will be fifteen years He was old he will have fallen into his eyes I […]...
32. La Figlia che Piange O quam te memorem virgo… STAND on the highest pavement of the stair- Lean on a garden urn- Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair- Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise- Fling them to the ground and turn With a fugitive resentment in your eyes: But weave, weave the sunlight in your […]...
33. The Grave Of Keats Rid of the world’s injustice, and his pain, He rests at last beneath God’s veil of blue: Taken from life when life and love were new The youngest of the martyrs here is lain, Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain. No cypress shades his grave, no funeral yew, But gentle violets weeping with the […]...
34. The missing the way loss seeps Into neck hollows And curls at temples Sits between front teeth Cavity Empty and waiting For mourning to open The way mourning stays Forever shadowing vision Shaping lives with memory A drawer won’t close Sleep elusive Smile illusive The only real is grief Forever counting the days Minutes missing without knowing […]...
35. Farewell to the Farm The coach is at the door at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! To house and garden, field and lawn, The meadow-gates we swang upon, To pump and stable, tree and swing, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! And fare you well for evermore, O ladder at […]...
36. Scenic Route For Lucy, who called them “ghost houses.” Someone was always leaving And never coming back. The wooden houses wait like old wives Along this road; they are everywhere, Abandoned, leaning, turning gray. Someone always traded The lonely beauty Of hemlock and stony lakeshore For survival, packed up his life And drove off to the city. […]...
37. Malade The sick grapes on the chair by the bed lie prone; at the window The tassel of the blind swings gently, tapping the pane, As a little wind comes in. The room is the hollow rind of a fruit, a gourd Scooped out and dry, where a spider, Folded in its legs as in a […]...
38. The Fatal Sisters Now the storm begins to lower, (Haste, the loom of Hell prepares!) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darkened air. Glittering lances are the loom, Where the dusky warp we strain, Weaving many a soldier’s doom, Orkney’s woe and Randver’s bane. See the grisly texture grow, (‘Tis of human entrails made!) And the weights […]...
39. Sonnet XVI: Delusive Hope Delusive Hope! more transient than the ray That leads pale twilight to her dusky bed, O’er woodland glen, or breezy mountain’s head, Ling’ring to catch the parting sigh of day. Hence with thy visionary charms, away! Nor o’er my path the flow’rs of fancy spread; Thy airy dreams on peaceful pillows shed, And weave for […]...
40. Thoughts in a Garden HOW vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crown’d from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow-verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all the flowers and trees do close To weave the garlands of repose! Fair Quiet, have I found thee […]...