Poem (Halleck monument dedication)

Related poetry:

1. A monument in words And so I had a glaring revelation, I couldn’t find the poet in the man although I read his life composed by writers true disposed To tell it with veracity. They built a monument in words And deeds, a shrine of writers’ reeds inlaid with refined And proper quotes. Those motes were hardly real; I […]...
2. Under the Violets HER hands are cold; her face is white; No more her pulses come and go; Her eyes are shut to life and light; Fold the white vesture, snow on snow, And lay her where the violets blow. But not beneath a graven stone, To plead for tears with alien eyes; A slender cross of wood […]...
3. Inscription 05 – For A Monument At Silbury-Hill This mound in some remote and dateless day Rear’d o’er a Chieftain of the Age of Hills, May here detain thee Traveller! from thy road Not idly lingering. In his narrow house Some Warrior sleeps below: his gallant deeds Haply at many a solemn festival The Bard has harp’d, but perish’d is the song Of […]...
4. For my own Monument AS doctors give physic by way of prevention, Mat, alive and in health, of his tombstone took care; For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention May haply be never fulfill’d by his heir. Then take Mat’s word for it, the sculptor is paid; That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye; Yet […]...
5. October's Bright Blue Weather O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather; When loud the bumblebee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And goldenrod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant; When gentians roll their fingers tight To save them for the morning, […]...
6. DEDICATION The morn arrived; his footstep quickly scared The gentle sleep that round my senses clung, And I, awak’ning, from my cottage fared, And up the mountain side with light heart sprung; At every step I felt my gaze ensnared By new-born flow’rs that full of dew-drops hung; The youthful day awoke with ecstacy, And all […]...
7. Dedication You whom I could not save Listen to me. Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another. I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words. I speak to you with silence like a cloud or a tree. What strengthened me, for you was lethal. You mixed up farewell […]...
8. The Monument Now can you see the monument? It is of wood Built somewhat like a box. No. Built Like several boxes in descending sizes One above the other. Each is turned half-way round so that Its corners point toward the sides Of the one below and the angles alternate. Then on the topmost cube is set […]...
9. Epitaph Heap not on this mound Roses that she loved so well: Why bewilder her with roses, That she cannot see or smell? She is happy where she lies With the dust upon her eyes....
10. Poem for My Wife This morning when we woke up The meat cages still locked us up* We took a bath so they’d look nice Had our breakfast of eggs and rice Wore the the stuff that Pinurbo** From his father once borrowed Braved the traffic never cool Sending our daughter to school Day by day we replay the […]...
11. In Fountain Court The fountain murmuring of sleep, A drowsy tune; The flickering green of leaves that keep The light of June; Peace, through a slumbering afternoon, The peace of June. A waiting ghost, in the blue sky, The white curved moon; June, hushed and breathless, waits, and I Wait too, with June; Come, through the lingering afternoon, […]...
12. Dedication for Moremi, 1963 Earth will not share the rafter’s envy; dung floors Break, not the gecko’s slight skin, but its fall Taste this soil for death and plumb her deep for life As this yam, wholly earthed, yet a living tuber To the warmth of waters, earthed as springs As roots of baobab, as the […]...
13. Cotton Song Come, brother, come. Lets lift it; Come now, hewit! roll away! Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day But lets not wait for it. God’s body’s got a soul, Bodies like to roll the soul, Cant blame God if we dont roll, Come, brother, roll, roll! Cotton bales are the fleecy way, Weary sinner’s bare feet […]...
14. Dedication Dedication These to His Memory since he held them dear, Perchance as finding there unconsciously Some image of himself I dedicate, I dedicate, I consecrate with tears These Idylls. And indeed He seems to me Scarce other than my king’s ideal knight, ‘Who reverenced his conscience as his king; Whose glory was, redressing human wrong; […]...
15. The Poem Cat Sometimes the poem Doesn’t want to come; It hides from the poet Like a playful cat Who has run Under the house & lurks among slugs, Roots, spiders’ eyes, Ledge so long out of the sun That it is dank With the breath of the Troll King. Sometimes the poem Darts away Like a coy […]...
16. 113. A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq EXPECT na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble bluid, Because ye’re surnam’d like His Grace- Perhaps related to the race: Then, when I’m tir’d-and sae are ye, Wi’ mony a fulsome, sinfu’ lie, Set up a face how I […]...
17. A Dream Lies Dead A dream lies dead here. May you softly go Before this place, and turn away your eyes, Nor seek to know the look of that which dies Importuning Life for life. Walk not in woe, But, for a little, let your step be slow. And, of your mercy, be not sweetly wise With words of […]...
18. The First Extra A Waltz Song. O sway, and swing, and sway, And swing, and sway, and swing! Ah me, what bliss like unto this, Can days and daylight bring? A rose beneath your feet Has fallen from my head; Its odour rises sweet, All crushed it lies, and dead. O Love is like a rose, Fair-hued, of […]...
19. POEM TO BE PLACED IN A BOTTLE AND CAST OUT TO SEA for Ken Kesey and his merry pranksters in a bus called ‘Further…’ Dear and here’s where the problem begins For who shall I address this letter to? Friends are few and very special, muses in the main I must confess, the first I lost just fifty years ago. Perhaps the best. I searched for years […]...
20. Ask Me No More Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me […]...
21. One Way Of Love All June I bound the rose in sheaves. Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves And strew them where Pauline may pass. She will not turn aside? Alas! Let them lie. Suppose they die? The chance was they might take her eye. II. How many a month I strove to suit These stubborn fingers […]...
22. A Song Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither doth stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me […]...
23. A Song: When June is Past, the Fading Rose Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep These flowers as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither doth stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me […]...
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. A Funeral Poem on the Death of C. E Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin’d round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes: […]...
26. On Being Asked For A War Poem I think it better that in times like these A poet’s mouth be silent, for in truth We have no gift to set a statesman right; He has had enough of medding who can please A young girl in the indolence of her youth, Or an old man upon a winter’s night....
27. Poem (In the morning, when it was raining) In the morning, when it was raining, Then the birds were hectic and loudy; Through all the reign is fall’s entertaining; Their singing was erratic and full of disorder: They did not remember the summer blue Or the orange of June. They did not think at all Of the great red and bursting ball Of […]...
28. Dedication To M Swing of the heart. O firmly hung, fastened on what Invisible branch. Who, who gave you the push, That you swung with me into the leaves? How near I was to the exquisite fruits. But not-staying Is the essence of this motion. Only the nearness, only Toward the forever-too-high, all at once the possible Nearness. […]...
29. Snail Poem Make my grave shape of heart so like a flower be free aired & handsome felt, Grave root pillow, tung up from grave & wigle at blown up clowd. Ear turnes close to underlayer of green felt moss & sound of rain dribble thru this layer down to the roots that will tickle my ear. […]...
30. A Poem About George Doty In The Death House Lured by the wall, and drawn To stare below the roof, Where pigeons nest aloof From prowling cats and men, I count the sash and bar Secured to granite stone, And note the daylight gone, Supper and silence near. Close to the wall inside, Immured, empty of love, A man I have wondered of Lies […]...
31. Inscription 06 – For A Monument In The New For This is the place where William’s kingly power Did from their poor and peaceful homes expel, Unfriended, desolate, and shelterless, The habitants of all the fertile track Far as these wilds extend. He levell’d down Their little cottages, he bade their fields Lie barren, so that o’er the forest waste He might most royally pursue […]...
32. The Fever Monument I walked across the park to the fever monument. It was in the center of a glass square surrounded By red flowers and fountains. The monument Was in the shape of a sea horse and the plaque read We got hot and died....
33. Beautiful Old Age It ought to be lovely to be old To be full of the peace that comes of experience And wrinkled ripe fulfilment. The wrinkled smile of completeness that follows a life Lived undaunted and unsoured with accepted lies They would ripen like apples, and be scented like pippins In their old age. Soothing, old people […]...
34. Dedication To Joseph Mazzini Take, since you bade it should bear, These, of the seed of your sowing, Blossom or berry or weed. Sweet though they be not, or fair, That the dew of your word kept growing, Sweet at least was the seed. Men bring you love-offerings of tears, And sorrow the kiss that assuages, And slaves the […]...
35. A June-Tide Echo (After a Richter Concert.) In the long, sad time, when the sky was grey, And the keen blast blew through the city drear, When delight had fled from the night and the day, My chill heart whispered, ” June will be here! ” June with its roses a-sway in the sun, Its glory of green […]...
36. Dedication for a House We, who were long together homeless, raise Brick walls, wood floors, a roof, and windows up To what sustained us in those threatening days Unto this end. Alas, that this bright cup Be empty of the care and life of him Who should have made it overflow its brim....
37. Poem Reaching For Something we walk through a calligraphy of hats slicing off foreheads Ace-deuce cocked, they slant, razor sharp, clean through imagination, our Spirits knee-deep in what we have forgotten entrancing our bodies now to Dance, like enraptured water lilies The rhythm in liquid strides of certain looks Eyeballs rippling through breezes Riffing choirs of trees, where a […]...
38. FRIST POEM A rainbow comes pouring into my window, I am electrified. Songs burst from my breast, all my crying stops, mistory fills the air. I look for my shues under my bed. A fat colored woman becomes my mother. I have no false teeth yet. Suddenly ten children sit on my lap. I grow a beard […]...
39. Poem 3 BRing with you all the Nymphes that you can heare Both of the riuers and the forrests greene: And of the sea that neighbours to her neare, Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene. And let them also with them bring in hand, Another gay girland For my fayre loue of lillyes and of roses, […]...
40. On your birthday, today On your birthday, today, there is time to reflect On the essence of our intimacy, From a beginning in the spring-tide of youth To an afterward secured in the distant mist, And for what reason and to what end it endures. Each year I feel the consequence, keen With up-welling of sentiment, Where new love […]...