AT VERONA

Related poetry:

1. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm, Great gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse; Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse Huge imprecations like a blasting charm! Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm, And beat it down before its sins grow worse; Spend our resentment, cannon, yea, disburse Our gold […]...
2. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
3. Let It Be Forgotten Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold. Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. If anyone asks, say it was forgotten Long and long ago, As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed […]...
4. The Under-Dogs What have we done, Oh Lord, that we Are evil starred? How have we erred and sinned to be So scourged and scarred? Lash us, Oh Lord, with scorpion whips, We can but run; But harken to our piteous lips: What have we done? How have we sinned to rouse your wrath, To earn your […]...
5. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
6. DOUBLE VILLANELLE I. O goat-foot God of Arcady! This modern world is grey and old, And what remains to us of thee? No more the shepherd lads in glee Throw apples at thy wattled fold, O goat-foot God of Arcady! Nor through the laurels can one see Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold And what […]...
7. Apologia Is it thy will that I should wax and wane, Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? Is it thy will – Love that I love so well – That my Soul’s House should be a tortured […]...
8. The British Church I joy, dear mother, when I view Thy perfect lineaments, and hue Both sweet and bright. Beauty in thee takes up her place, And dates her letters from thy face, When she doth write. A fine aspect in fit array, Neither too mean nor yet too gay, Shows who is best. Outlandish looks may not […]...
9. On Virtue O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach. I cease to wonder, and no more attempt Thine height t’ explore, or fathom thy profound. But, O my soul, sink not into despair, Virtue is near thee, and with gentle […]...
10. If This Be All O God! if this indeed be all That Life can show to me; If on my aching brow may fall No freshening dew from Thee, If with no brighter light than this The lamp of hope may glow, And I may only dream of bliss, And wake to weary woe; If friendship’s solace must decay, […]...
11. Limitless There is nothing, I hold, in the way of work That a human being may not achieve If he does not falter, or shrink, or shirk, And more than all, if he will believe. Believe in himself and the power behind That stands like an aid on a dual ground, With hope for the spirit […]...
12. The Parallel Yes, sad one of Sion, if closely resembling, In shame and in sorrow, thy wither’d-up heart If drinking deep, deep, of the same “cup of trembling” Could make us thy children, our parent thou art. Like thee doth our nation lie conquer’d and broken, And fall’n from her head is the once royal crown; In […]...
13. Historion No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and […]...
14. Ale Now do I hear thee weep and groan, Who hath a comrade sunk at sea? Then quaff thee of my good old ale, And it will raise him up for thee; Thoul’t think as little of him then As when he moved with living men. If thou hast hopes to move the world, And every […]...
15. Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold Molten, graven, hammered and rolled, Heavy to get and light to hold, Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold, Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled, Spurned by young, but hung by old To the verge of a church yard mold; Price of many a crime untold. Gold! Gold! Gold! […]...
16. O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,- Nature’s observatory-whence the dell, In flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep ‘Mongst boughs pavilioned, where the deer’s swift leap Startles the wild […]...
17. To Solitude O solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,- Nature’s observatory-whence the dell, Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep ‘Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap Startles the wild […]...
18. There Was A Time, I Need Not Name There was a time, I need not name, Since it will ne’er forgotten be, When all our feelings were the same As still my soul hath been to thee. And from that hour when first thy tongue Confess’d a love which equall’d mine, Though many a grief my heart hath wrung, Unknown, and thus unfelt, […]...
19. Poem Without A Title I say to the lead Why did you let yourself Be cast into a bullet? Have you forgotten the alchemists? Have you given up hope In turning into gold? Nobody answers. Lead. Bullet. With names Such as these The sleep is deep and long....
20. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
21. The Seekers FRIENDS and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode, But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road. Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind, For we go seeking a city that we shall never find. There is no solace on earth for […]...
22. Camma (To Ellen Terry) As one who poring on a Grecian urn Scans the fair shapes some Attic hand hath made, God with slim goddess, goodly man with maid, And for their beauty’s sake is loth to turn And face the obvious day, must I not yearn For many a secret moon of indolent bliss, When […]...
23. The Origin of the Harp Tis believed that this Harp, which I wake now for thee Was a Siren of old, who sung under the sea; And who often, at eve, through the bright waters roved, To meet, on the green shore, a youth whom she loved. But she loved him in vain, for he left her to weep, And […]...
24. The Mantra-Yoga I How should I seek to make a song for thee When all my music is to moan thy name? That long sad monotone – the same – the same – Matching the mute insatiable sea That throbs with life’s bewitching agony, Too long to measure and too fierce to tame! An hurtful joy, a […]...
25. The Mountaineer OH, at the eagle’s height To lie i’ the sweet of the sun, While veil after veil takes flight And God and the world are one. Oh, the night on the steep! All that his eyes saw dim Grows light in the dusky deep, And God is alone with him....
26. Tampa Robins The robin laughed in the orange-tree: “Ho, windy North, a fig for thee: While breasts are red and wings are bold And green trees wave us globes of gold, Time’s scythe shall reap but bliss for me Sunlight, song, and the orange-tree. Burn, golden globes in leafy sky, My orange-planets: crimson I Will shine and […]...
27. The Scribe What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass, The speck of the stone Which the wayfaring ant Stirs and hastes on! Though I should sit By some tarn in thy hills, Using its ink As the spirit wills To write of Earth’s wonders, Its […]...
28. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
29. The Flesh and the Spirit In secret place where once I stood Close by the Banks of Lacrim flood, I heard two sisters reason on Things that are past and things to come. One Flesh was call’d, who had her eye On worldly wealth and vanity; The other Spirit, who did rear Her thoughts unto a higher sphere. “Sister,” quoth […]...
30. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
31. The Fir-Tree and the Brook The Fir-Tree looked on stars, but loved the Brook! “O silver-voiced! if thou wouldst wait, My love can bravely woo.” All smiles forsook The brook’s white face. “Too late! Too late! I go to wed the sea. I know not if my love would curse or bless thee. I may not, dare not, tarry to […]...
32. Sir Richard's Song (A. D. 1066) I followed my Duke ere I was a lover, To take from England fief and fee; But now this game is the other way over But now England hath taken me! I had my horse, my shield and banner, And a boy’s heart, so whole and free; But now I sing in […]...
33. Upon the saying that my VERSES were made by another NExt Heaven my Vows to thee (O Sacred Muse! ) I offer’d up, nor didst thou them refuse. O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou’lt inspire, And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire, No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart, Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part, More Rich, […]...
34. The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
35. TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
36. Youth and Calm ‘Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There’s nothing can dismarble now The smoothness of that limpid brow. But is a calm like this, in truth, The crowning end of life and youth, And when this boon rewards the dead, Are all debts paid, has all been […]...
37. Dyspeptic Clerk I think I’ll buy a little field, Though scant am I of pelf, And hold the hope that it may yield A living for myself; For I have toiled ten thousand days With ledger and with pen, And I am sick of city ways And soured with city men. So I will plant my little […]...
38. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
39. If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem If I forget thee, Jerusalem, Then let my right be forgotten. Let my right be forgotten, and my left remember. Let my left remember, and your right close And your mouth open near the gate. I shall remember Jerusalem And forget the forest my love will remember, Will open her hair, will close my window, […]...
40. Sonnet 09 IX Lady that in the prime of earliest youth, Wisely hath shun’d the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labour up the Hill of heav’nly Truth, The better part with Mary and with Ruth, Chosen thou hast, and they that overween, And at thy growing vertues fret their […]...