Life's Tragedy

Related poetry:

1. 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 […]...
2. A Tragedy Among his books he sits all day To think and read and write; He does not smell the new-mown hay, The roses red and white. I walk among them all alone, His silly, stupid wife; The world seems tasteless, dead and done – An empty thing is life. At night his window casts a square […]...
3. The Tragedy Oh, I never felt so wretched, and things never looked so blue Since the days I gulped the physic that my Granny used to brew; For a friend in whom I trusted, entering my room last night, Stole a bottleful of Heenzo from the desk whereon I write. I am certain sure he did it […]...
4. Refuted ‘Anticipation is sweeter than realisation.’ It may be, yet I have not found it so. In those first golden dreams of future fame I did not find such happiness as came When toil was crowned with triumph. Now I know My words have recognition, and will go Straight to some listening heart, my early aim, […]...
5. Fragment of a Greek Tragedy CHORUS: O suitably-attired-in-leather-boots Head of a traveller, wherefore seeking whom Whence by what way how purposed art thou come To this well-nightingaled vicinity? My object in inquiring is to know. But if you happen to be deaf and dumb And do not understand a word I say, Then wave your hand, to signify as much. […]...
6. A St. Valentine's Day Tragedy Oh! Montmorency Vere de Vere, To think that one I held so dear Should use a base deceiver’s art To trifle with my loving heart. A brand new ten-cent valentine With lace and hearts and verses fine, I sent to show my love for thee And in return you send to me The one I […]...
7. Heretic's Tragedy, The A MIDDLE-AGE INTERLUDE. ROSA MUNDI; SEU, FULCITE ME FLORIBUS. A CONCEIT OF MASTER GYSBRECHT, CANON-REGULAR OF SAID JODOCUS-BY-THE-BAR, YPRES CITY. CANTUQUE, Virgilius. AND HATH OFTEN BEEN SUNG AT HOCK-TIDE AND FESTIVALES. GAVISUS ERAM, Jessides. (It would seem to be a glimpse from the Burning of Jacques du Bourg-Mulay, at Paris, A. D. 1314; as distorted […]...
8. All is Truth O ME, man of slack faith so long! Standing aloof-denying portions so long; Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth; Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none, but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon itself, Or as any law of the earth, or any […]...
9. 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 […]...
10. Tragedy A MAN went forth one day at eve: The long day’s toil for him was done: The eye that scanned the page could leave Its task until tomorrow’s sun. Upon the threshold where he stood Flared on his tired eyes the sight, Where host on host the multitude Burned fiercely in the dusky night. The […]...
11. A Domestic Tragedy Clorinda met me on the way As I came from the train; Her face was anything but gay, In fact, suggested pain. “Oh hubby, hubby dear!” she cried, “I’ve awful news to tell. . . .” “What is it, darling?” I replied; “Your mother is she well?” “Oh no! oh no! it is not that, […]...
12. To A Husband This is to the crown and blessing of my life, The much loved husband of a happy wife; To him whose constant passion found the art To win a stubborn and ungrateful heart, And to the world by tenderest proof discovers They err, who say that husbands can’t be lovers. With such return of passion, […]...
13. Your Dad Did What? Where they have been, if they have been away, Or what they’ve done at home, if they have not – You make them write about the holiday. One writes My Dad did. What? Your Dad did what? That’s not a sentence. Never mind the bell. We stay behind until the work is done. You count […]...
14. Why Do Birds Sing? Let poets piece prismatic words, Give me the jewelled joy of birds! What ecstasy moves them to sing? Is it the lyric glee of Spring, The dewy rapture of the rose? Is it the worship born in those Who are of Nature’s self a part, The adoration of the heart? Is it the mating mood […]...
15. Love's Reality I walk, I trust, with open eyes; I’ve travelled half my worldly course; And in the way behind me lies Much vanity and some remorse; I’ve lived to feel how pride may part Spirits, tho’ matched like hand and glove; I’ve blushed for love’s abode, the heart; But have not disbelieved in love; Nor unto […]...
16. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
17. Two Blind Men Two blind men met. Said one: “This earth Has been a blackout from my birth. Through darkness I have groped my way, Forlorn, unknowing night from day. But you – though War destroyed your sight, Still have your memories of Light, And to allay your present pain Can live your golden youth again.” Then said […]...
18. Belated Bard The songs I made from joy of earth In wanton wandering, Are rapturous with Maytime mirth And ectasy of Spring. But all the songs I sing today Take tediously the ear: Novemberishly dark are they With mortuary fear. For half a century has gone Since first I rang a rhyme; And that is long to […]...
19. Sing To Me Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom, I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom, I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, – Sing of the beauty and brightness of life – Sing to me, sing to me! Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad! I am so weary, my soul […]...
20. Carpe Diem O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming That can sing both high and low; Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journey’s end in lovers’ meeting Every wise man’s son doth know. What is love? ’tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What’s to come is still unsure: In […]...
21. The River of Life The more we live, more brief appear Our life’s succeeding stages; A day to childhood seems a year, And years like passing ages. The gladsome current of our youth, Ere passion yet disorders, Steals lingering like a river smooth Along its grassy borders. But as the careworn cheek grows wan, And sorrow’s shafts fly thicker, […]...
22. One Perfect Rose A single flow’r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet – One perfect rose. I knew the language of the floweret; ‘My fragile leaves,’ it said, ‘his heart enclose.’ Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no […]...
23. The Poet To Death TARRY a while, O Death, I cannot die While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring; Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs Where dhadikulas sing. Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die With all my blossoming hopes unharvested, My joys ungarnered, all my songs unsung, And all my tears unshed. […]...
24. A Last Confession What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay? I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery, But had great pleasure with a lad That I loved bodily. Flinging from his arms I laughed To think his passion such He fancied that I gave a soul Did but our […]...
25. Psalm 119 part 1 The blessedness of saints, and misery of sinners. Ver. 1-3 Blest are the undefiled in heart, Whose ways are right and clean; Who never from thy law depart, But fly from every sin. Blest are the men that keep thy word, And practise thy commands; With their whole heart they seek the Lord, And serve […]...
26. Sonnet 43 – How do I love thee? Let me count the ways How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee […]...
27. Hymn 90 Youth and judgment. Eccl. 11:9. Lo! the young tribes of Adam rise, And through all nature rove Fulfil the wishes of their eyes, And taste the joys they love. They give a loose to wild desires; But let the sinners know The strict account that God requires Of all the works they do. The Judge […]...
28. One's-Self I Sing ONE’S-SELF I sing-a simple, separate Person; Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-masse. Of Physiology from top to toe I sing; Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the muse-I say the Form complete is worthier far; The Female equally with the male I sing. Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and […]...
29. Hymn (FROM THE GERMAN OF MARTIN LUTHER) O heart of mine! lift up thine eyes And see who in yon manger lies! Of perfect form, of face divine It is the Christ-child, heart of mine! O dearest, holiest Christ-child, spread Within this heart of mine thy bed; Then shall my breast forever be A chamber consecrate […]...
30. To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then Forty LORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band That wear the fair Miss Mary’s fetters, Were summoned by her high command To show their passions by their letters. My pen amongst the rest I took, Lest those bright eyes, that cannot read, Should dart their kindling fire, and look The power they have to be obey’d. […]...
31. Hymn 165 Unfruitfulness, ignorance, and unsanctified affections. Long have I sat beneath the sound Of thy salvation, Lord; But still how weak my faith is found, And knowledge of thy word! Oft I frequent thy holy place, And hear almost in vain; How small a portion of thy grace My memory can retain! [My dear Almighty, and […]...
32. Reason and Passion XV And the priestess spoke again and said: “Speak to us of Reason and Passion.” And he answered saying: Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite. Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and […]...
33. Sonnet VIII: Why, Through Each Aching Vein Why, through each aching vein, with lazy pace Thus steals the languid fountain of my heart, While, from its source, each wild convulsive start Tears the scorch’d roses from my burning face? In vain, O Lesbian Vales! your charms I trace; Vain is the poet’s theme, the sculptor’s art; No more the Lyre its magic […]...
34. XIV. On a Distant View of England AH! from my eyes the tears unbidden start, Albion! as now thy cliffs (that bright appear Far o’er the wave, and their proud summits rear To meet the beams of morn) my beating heart, With eager hope, and filial transport hails! Scenes of my youth, reviving gales ye bring. As when, ere while, the tuneful […]...
35. Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of truth When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearnèd in the world’s false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking […]...
36. 233. Song-O were I on Parnassus Hill O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well, My Muse maun be thy bonie sel’, On Corsincon I’ll glowr and spell, And write how dear I love thee. Then come, sweet […]...
37. Sonnet CXXXVIII When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor’d youth, Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false […]...
38. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
39. TRUE ENJOYMENT VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart, Heap up a maiden’s lap with gold; The joys of love thou must impart, Wouldst thou e’er see those joys unfold. The voices of the throng gold buys, No single heart ’twill win for thee; Wouldst thou a maiden make thy prize, Thyself alone the bribe must be. […]...
40. Count That Day Lost If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have done, And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who heard, One glance most kind That fell like sunshine where it went Then you may count that day well spent. But if, through all […]...