Female Fashions for 1799

Related poetry:

1. Male Fashions for 1799 Crops like hedgehogs, high-crown’d hats, Whispers like Jew MOSES ; Padded collars, thick cravats, And cheeks as red as roses. Faces painted pink and brown ; Waistcoats strip’d and gaudy ; Sleeves thrice doubled thick with down, And straps to brace the body. Short great-coats that reach the knees, Boots like French postillion ; Worn […]...
2. The Female of the Species 1911 When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride, He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside. But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of […]...
3. Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky; Contrariwise, my blood runs cold When little boys go by. For little boys as little boys, No special hate I carry, But now and then they grow to men, And when they do, they marry. No matter how they tarry, Eventually they marry. […]...
4. 183. Verses Written with a Pencil at the Inn at Kenmore ADMIRING Nature in her wildest grace, These northern scenes with weary feet I trace; O’er many a winding dale and painful steep, Th’ abodes of covey’d grouse and timid sheep, My savage journey, curious, I pursue, Till fam’d Breadalbane opens to my view.- The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides, The woods wild scatter’d, clothe […]...
5. In the Trenches I snatched two poppies From the parapet’s ledge, Two bright red poppies That winked on the ledge. Behind my ear I stuck one through, One blood red poppy I gave to you. The sandbags narrowed And screwed out our jest, And tore the poppy You had on your breast… Down – a shell – O! […]...
6. Tears TEARS! tears! tears! In the night, in solitude, tears; On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck’d in by the sand; Tears-not a star shining-all dark and desolate; Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head: -O who is that ghost?-that form in the dark, with tears? What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch’d there […]...
7. Poppies She loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in. In a loose white gown she walks and a new child tugs at cords in her body. Her head to the west at evening when the dew is creeping, A shudder of gladness runs in her bones and torsal fiber: She loves blood-red poppies for […]...
8. Gipsy The poppies that in Spring I sow, In rings of radiance gleam and glow, Like lords and ladies gay. A joy are they to dream beside, As in the air of eventide They flutter, dip and sway. For some are scarlet, some are gold, While some in fairy flame unfold, And some are rose and […]...
9. Spirit That Form'd This Scene SPIRIT that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and red, These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks, These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness, These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own, I know thee, savage spirit-we have communed together, Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own; Was’t charged against my chants they […]...
10. Hymn 160 Custom in sin. Let the wild leopards of the wood Put off the spots that nature gives, Then may the wicked turn to God, And change their tempers and their lives. As well might Ethiopian slaves Wash out the darkness of their skin, The deed as well might leave their graves, As old transgressors cease […]...
11. The Enkindled Spring This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes. I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze […]...
12. The Flower of Liberty WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming band It kindles all the sunset land: Oh tell us what its name may be, Is this the Flower of Liberty? It is the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty! In savage […]...
13. Bill's Grave I’m gatherin’ flowers by the wayside to lay on the grave of Bill; I’ve sneaked away from the billet, ’cause Jim wouldn’t understand; ‘E’d call me a silly fat’ead, and larf till it made ‘im ill, To see me ‘ere in the cornfield, wiv a big bookay in me ‘and. For Jim and me we […]...
14. Funk When your marrer bone seems ‘oller, And you’re glad you ain’t no taller, And you’re all a-shakin’ like you ‘ad the chills; When your skin creeps like a pullet’s, And you’re duckin’ all the bullets, And you’re green as gorgonzola round the gills; When your legs seem made of jelly, And you’re squeamish in the […]...
15. Summer in the Mountains Gently I stir a white feather fan, With open shirt sitting in a green wood. I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone; A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head....
16. The Fountain Oh in the deep blue night The fountain sang alone; It sang to the drowsy heart Of a satyr carved in stone. The fountain sang and sang But the satyr never stirred Only the great white moon In the empty heaven heard. The fountain sang and sang And on the marble rim The milk-white peacocks […]...
17. Ethiopia Saluting the Colors 1 WHO are you, dusky woman, so ancient, hardly human, With your woolly-white and turban’d head, and bare bony feet? Why, rising by the roadside here, do you the colors greet? 2 (‘Tis while our army lines Carolina’s sand and pines, Forth from thy hovel door, thou, Ethiopia, com’st to me, As, under doughty Sherman, […]...
18. Through lane it lay through bramble Through lane it lay through bramble Through clearing and through wood Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road. The wolf came peering curious The owl looked puzzled down The serpent’s satin figure Glid stealthily along The tempests touched our garments The lightning’s poinards gleamed Fierce from the Crag above us The hungry Vulture screamed […]...
19. The Call Of The Wild Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there’s nothing else to gaze on, Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore, Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon, Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar? Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it, Searched the Vastness for a […]...
20. The Sun Have you ever seen Anything In your life More wonderful Than the way the sun, Every evening, Relaxed and easy, Floats toward the horizon And into the clouds or the hills, Or the rumpled sea, And is gone And how it slides again Out of the blackness, Every morning, On the other side of the […]...
21. Axe Handles One afternoon the last week in April Showing Kai how to throw a hatchet One-half turn and it sticks in a stump. He recalls the hatchet-head Without a handle, in the shop And go gets it, and wants it for his own. A broken-off axe handle behind the door Is long enough for a hatchet, […]...
22. Elegy VIII: The Comparison As the sweet sweat of roses in a still, As that which from chafed musk-cats’ pores doth trill, As the almighty balm of th’ early East, Such are the sweat drops of my mistress’ breast, And on her brow her skin such lustre sets, They seem no sweat drops, but pearl coronets. Rank sweaty froth […]...
23. A Song of Enchantment A song of Enchantment I sang me there, In a green-green wood, by waters fair, Just as the words came up to me I sang it under the wild wood tree. Widdershins turned I, singing it low, Watching the wild birds come and go; No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen Under […]...
24. The Licorice Fields at Pontefract In the licorice fields at Pontefract My love and I did meet And many a burdened licorice bush Was blooming round our feet; Red hair she had and golden skin, Her sulky lips were shaped for sin, Her sturdy legs were flannel-slack’d The strongest legs in Pontefract. The light and dangling licorice flowers Gave off […]...
25. Our Mother Pocahontas (Note: – Pocahontas is buried at Gravesend, England.) “Pocahontas’ body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May – did she wonder? does she remember – in the dust – in the cool tombs?” CARL SANDBURG. I Powhatan was conqueror, Powhatan was emperor. He was akin to […]...
26. The Prince's Progress (excerpt) “Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate. The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate; Her heart was starving all this while You made it […]...
27. Poor Marguerite Swift, o’er the wild and dreary waste A NUT-BROWN GIRL was seen to haste; Wide waving was her unbound hair, And sun-scorch’d was her bosom bare; For Summer’s noon had shed its beams While she lay wrapp’d in fev’rish dreams; While, on the wither’d hedge-row’s side, By turns she slept, by turns she cried, “Ah! […]...
28. In Flanders Field In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In […]...
29. Bride Song From ‘The Prince’s Progress’ TOO late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late! You loiter’d on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate; The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate; Her heart was starving all this […]...
30. THE IRISH GUARDS 1918 We’re not so old in the Army List, But we’re not so young at our trade, For we had the honour at Fontenoy Of meeting the Guards’Brigade. ‘Twas Lally, Dillon, Bulkeley, Clare, And Lee that led us then, And after a hundred and seventy years We’re fighting for France again! Old Days! The wild […]...
31. De Gustibus – I. Your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, (If our loves remain) In an English lane, By a cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies. Hark, those two in the hazel coppice – A boy and a girl, if the good fates please, Making love, say, – The happier they! Draw yourself up from the light of […]...
32. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
33. Peace Ah, that Time could touch a form That could show what Homer’s age Bred to be a hero’s wage. ‘Were not all her life but storm Would not painters paint a form Of such noble lines,’ I said, ‘Such a delicate high head, All that sternness amid charm, All that sweetness amid strength?’ Ah, but […]...
34. Brumby's Run It lies beyond the Western Pines Towards the sinking sun, And not a survey mark defines The bounds of “Brumby’s Run”. On odds and ends of mountain land, On tracks of range and rock Where no one else can make a stand, Old Brumby rears his stock. A wild, unhandled lot they are Of every […]...
35. Camouflage Beside the bare and beaten track of travelling flocks and herds The woodpecker went tapping on, the postman of the birds, “I’ve got a letter here,” he said, “that no one’s understood, Addressed as follows: ‘To the bird that’s like a piece of wood.’ “The soldier bird got very cross it wasn’t meant for her; […]...
36. A Gravestone Far from the churchyard dig his grave, On some green mound beside the wave; To westward, sea and sky alone, And sunsets. Put a mossy stone, With mortal name and date, a harp And bunch of wild flowers, carven sharp; Then leave it free to winds that blow, And patient mosses creeping; slow, And wandering […]...
37. These, I, Singing in Spring THESE, I, singing in spring, collect for lovers, (For who but I should understand lovers, and all their sorrow and joy? And who but I should be the poet of comrades?) Collecting, I traverse the garden, the world-but soon I pass the gates, Now along the pond-side-now wading in a little, fearing not the wet, […]...
38. Wedding Each strips his own skin Each bares his own constellation Which has never seen the night Each fills his skin with rocks And plays with it Lit by his own stars Who doesn’t stop till dawn Who doesn’t bat an eyelid or fall Earns his own skin (This game is rarely played)...
39. A Bunch of Roses Roses ruddy and roses white, What are the joys that my heart discloses? Sitting alone in the fading light Memories come to me here tonight With the wonderful scent of the big red roses. Memories come as the daylight fades Down on the hearth where the firelight dozes; Flicker and flutter the lights and shades, […]...
40. What if I say I shall not wait! What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate And pass escaped to thee! What if I file this Mortal off See where it hurt me That’s enough And wade in Liberty! They cannot take me any more! Dungeons can call and Guns implore Unmeaning now to me As […]...