Stony Grey Soil

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1. The Grey Monk “I die, I die!” the Mother said, “My children die for lack of bread. What more has the merciless Tyrant said?” The Monk sat down on the stony bed. The blood red ran from the Grey Monk’s side, His hands and feet were wounded wide, His body bent, his arms and knees Like to the […]...
2. To the Leaven'd Soil They Trod TO the leaven’d soil they trod, calling, I sing, for the last; (Not cities, nor man alone, nor war, nor the dead, But forth from my tent emerging for good-loosing, untying the tent-ropes;) In the freshness, the forenoon air, in the far-stretching circuits and vistas, again to peace restored, To the fiery fields emanative, and […]...
3. The Story of Mongrel Grey This is the story the stockman told On the cattle-camp, when the stars were bright; The moon rose up like a globe of gold And flooded the plain with her mellow light. We watched the cattle till dawn of day And he told me the story of Mongrel Grey. He was a knock-about station hack, […]...
4. The Grey Eros WE are desert leagues apart; Time is misty ages now Since the warmth of heart to heart Chased the shadows from my brow. Oh, I am so old, meseems I am next of kin to Time, The historian of her dreams From the long-forgotten prime. You have come a path of flowers. What a way […]...
5. Grey Evening When you went, how was it you carried with you My missal book of fine, flamboyant hours? My book of turrets and of red-thorn bowers, And skies of gold, and ladies in bright tissue? Now underneath a blue-grey twilight, heaped Beyond the withering snow of the shorn fields Stands rubble of stunted houses; all is […]...
6. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 11: Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares With purple lights in the canyoned street. The fiery sign on the dark tower wreathes and flares. . . The trodden grass in the park is covered with white, The streets grow silent beneath our feet. . . The city dreams, it forgets its past to-night. […]...
7. The Granny Grey, a Love Tale DAME DOWSON, was a granny grey, Who, three score years and ten, Had pass’d her busy hours away, In talking of the Men! They were her theme, at home, abroad, At wake, and by the winter fire, Whether it froze, or blew, or thaw’d, In sunshine or in shade, her ire Was never calm’d; for […]...
8. Bilbo's Last Song (At the Grey Havens) Day is ended, dim my eyes, But journey long before me lies. Farewell, friends! I hear the call. The ship’s beside the stony wall. Foam is white and waves are grey; Beyond the sunset leads my way. Foam is salt, the wind is free; I hear the rising of the sea. Farewell, friends! The sails […]...
9. A Grey Day Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape, Rain whitens the dead sea, From headland dim to sullen cape Grey sails creep wearily. I know not how that merchantman Has found the heart; but ’tis her plan Seaward her endless course to shape. Unreal as insects that appall A drunkard’s peevish brain, O’er the grey deep the […]...
10. Grey Hairs These are ashes of treasures: Of hurt and loss. These are ashes in face of which Granite is dross. Dove, naked and brilliant, It has no mate. Solomon’s ashes Over vanity that’s great. Time’s menacing chalkmark, Not to be overthrown. Means God knocks at the door Once the house has burned down! Not choked yet […]...
11. By the Grey Gulf-water Far to the Northward there lies a land, A wonderful land that the winds blow over, And none may fathom or understand The charm it holds for the restless rover; A great grey chaos a land half made, Where endless space is and no life stirreth; There the soul of a man will recoil afraid […]...
12. The Great Grey Plain Out West, where the stars are brightest, Where the scorching north wind blows, And the bones of the dead gleam whitest, And the sun on a desert glows Yet within the selfish kingdom Where man starves man for gain, Where white men tramp for existence Wide lies the Great Grey Plain. No break in its […]...
13. Earth's Answer Earth raised up her head. From the darkness dread & drear, Her light fled: Stony dread! And her locks cover’d with grey despair. Prison’d on watery shore Starry Jealousy does keep my den Cold and hoar Weeping o’er I hear the father of the ancient men Selfish father of men Cruel jealous selfish fear Can […]...
14. On A Political Prisoner She that but little patience knew, From childhood on, had now so much A grey gull lost its fear and flew Down to her cell and there alit, And there endured her fingers’ touch And from her fingers ate its bit. Did she in touching that lone wing Recall the years before her mind Became […]...
15. Sad-Eyed and Soft and Grey Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn! Across the long grass of the marshy plain Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain, Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn Above the lush blades of the springing corn, Thy thrush within the high elms strives in vain To store up tales of […]...
16. Grey Gull ‘Twas on an iron, icy day I saw a pirate gull down-plane, And hover in a wistful way Nigh where my chickens picked their grain. An outcast gull, so grey and old, Withered of leg I watched it hop, By hunger goaded and by cold, To where each fowl full-filled its crop. They hospitably welcomed […]...
17. A Celebration of Charis: I. His Excuse for Loving Let it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years, I have had, and have, my peers; Poets, though divine, are men, Some have lov’d as old again. And it is not always face, Clothes, or fortune, gives the grace; Or the feature, or the youth. But […]...
18. Mrs. George Reece To this generation I would say: Memorize some bit of verse of truth or beauty. It may serve a turn in your life. My husband had nothing to do With the fall of the bank he was only cashier. The wreck was due to the president, Thomas Rhodes, And his vain, unscrupulous son. Yet my […]...
19. I see around me tombstones grey I see around me tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps tread Lie low and lone the silent dead – Beneath the turf – beneath the mould – Forever dark, forever cold – And my eyes cannot hold the tears That memory hoards from vanished years For Time and Death […]...
20. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
21. The Grey Rock Poets with whom I learned my trade. Companions of the Cheshire Cheese, Here’s an old story I’ve remade, Imagining ‘twould better please Your cars than stories now in fashion, Though you may think I waste my breath Pretending that there can be passion That has more life in it than death, And though at bottling […]...
22. Sonnet CI O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say ‘Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix’d; Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay; But […]...
23. Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say, “Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed, Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay, But […]...
24. The Sower (Matthew, xiii.3) Ye sons of earth prepare the plough, Break up your fallow ground; The sower is gone forth to sow, And scatter blessings round. The seed that finds a stony soil Shoots forth a hasty blade; But ill repays the sower’s toil, Soon wither’d, scorch’d, and dead. The thorny ground is sure to balk […]...
25. So Much I Gazed So much I gazed on beauty, That my vision is replete with it. Contours of the body. Red lips. Voluptuous limbs. Hair as if taken from greek statues; Always beautiful, even when uncombed, And it falls, slightly, over white foreheads. Faces of love, as my poetry Wanted them…. in the nights of my youth, In […]...
26. What the Captain Said at the Point-to-Point I’ve had a good bump round; my little horse Refused the brook first time, Then jumped it prime; And ran out at the double, But of course There’s always trouble at a double: And then-I don’t know how It was-he turned it up At that big, hairy fence before the plough; And some young silly […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
29. The Flood On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonely mood I’ve seen the winter floods their gambols play Through each old arch that trembled while I stood Bent o’er its wall to watch the dashing spray As their old stations would be washed away Crash came the ice against the jambs and then A shudder jarred the […]...
30. Sonnet XLI Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman’s son Will sourly leave […]...
31. Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won; Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman’s son Will sourly leave […]...
32. Hours Continuing Long HOURS continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted, Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and unfrequented spot, seating myself, leaning my face in my hands; Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth, speeding swiftly the country roads, or through the city streets, or pacing miles and miles, stifling plaintive cries; […]...
33. My Ancestors A barefoot boy I went to school To save a cobbler’s fee, For though the porridge pot was full A frugal folk were we; We baked our bannocks, spun our wool, And counted each bawbee. We reft our living from the soil, And I was shieling bred; My father’s hands were warped with toil, And […]...
34. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
35. A Song Of Success Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave. Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight. All that was best in us gladly we gave, Sprang from the rally, and leapt for the height. Smiling is Love in a foam of Spring flowers: Harden our hearts to him on let us press! […]...
36. In Due Season If night should come and find me at my toil, When all Life’s day I had, tho’ faintly, wrought, And shallow furrows, cleft in stony soil Were all my labour: Shall I count it naught If only one poor gleaner, weak of hand, Shall pick a scanty sheaf where I have sown? “Nay, for of […]...
37. The Road to Old Man's Town The fields of youth are filled with flowers, The wine of youth is strong: What need have we to count the hours? The summer days are long. But soon we find to our dismay That we are drifting down The barren slopes that fall away Towards the foothills grim and grey That lead to Old […]...
38. Black Oaks Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary, Or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance And comfort. Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays Carp and whistle all day in the branches, without The push of the wind. But to tell the truth after a […]...
39. Tales Of Arabia YES, friend, I own these tales of Arabia Smile not, as smiled their flawless originals, Age-old but yet untamed, for ages Pass and the magic is undiminished. Thus, friend, the tales of the old Camaralzaman, Ayoub, the Slave of Love, or the Calendars, Blind-eyed and ill-starred royal scions, Charm us in age as they charmed […]...
40. A Grey Mood As we hurry away to the end, my friend, Of this sad little farce called existence, We are sure that the future will bring one thing, And that is the grave in the distance. And so when our lives run along all wrong, And nothing seems real or certain, We can comfort ourselves with the […]...