A Widow Bird Sate Mourning For Her Love

Related poetry:

1. Archy's Song from Charles the First Heigho! the lark and the owl! One flies the morning, and one lulls the night: Only the nightingale, poor fond soul, Sings like the fool through darkness and light. “A widow bird sate mourning for her love Upon a wintry bough; The frozen wind crept on above, The freezing stream below. “There was no leaf […]...
2. The Widow at Windsor ‘Ave you ‘eard o’ the Widow at Windsor With a hairy gold crown on ‘er ‘ead? She ‘as ships on the foam she ‘as millions at ‘ome, An’ she pays us poor beggars in red. (Ow, poor beggars in red!) There’s ‘er nick on the cavalry ‘orses, There’s ‘er mark on the medical stores An’ […]...
3. The Widow's Party “Where have you been this while away, Johnnie, Johnnie?” ‘Long with the rest on a picnic lay, Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! They called us out of the barrack-yard To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard, And you can’t refuse when you get the card, And the Widow gives the party. (Bugle: Ta rara ra-ra-rara!) “What […]...
4. Sonnet 9: Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye, That thou consum’st thy self in single life? Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die, The world will wail thee like a makeless wife. The world will be thy widow and still weep, That thou no form of thee hast left behind, When every private […]...
5. The Nithsdale Widow and Her Son ‘Twas in the year of 1746, on a fine summer afternoon, When trees and flowers were in full bloom, That widow Riddel sat knitting stockings on a little rustic seat, Which her only son had made for her, which was very neat. The cottage she lived in was in the wilds of Nithsdale, Where many […]...
6. 402. Song-Meg o' the Mill (Another Version) O KEN ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten, An’ ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten? A braw new naig wi’ the tail o’ a rottan, And that’s what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten. O ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill lo’es dearly, An’ ken ye what Meg o’ […]...
7. Keepsake Mill Over the borders, a sin without pardon, Breaking the branches and crawling below, Out through the breach in the wall of the garden, Down by the banks of the river we go. Here is a mill with the humming of thunder, Here is the weir with the wonder of foam, Here is the sluice with […]...
8. Widow McFarlane I was the Widow McFarlane, Weaver of carpets for all the village. And I pity you still at the loom of life, You who are singing to the shuttle And lovingly watching the work of your hands, If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth. For the cloth of life is woven, you […]...
9. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
10. Mourning You, that decipher out the Fate Of humane Off-springs from the Skies, What mean these Infants which of late Spring from the Starrs of Chlora’s Eyes? Her Eyes confus’d, and doubled ore, With Tears suspended ere they flow; Seem bending upwards, to restore To Heaven, whence it came, their Woe. When, molding of the watry […]...
11. The Flower-Fed Buffaloes THE flower-fed buffaloes of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prarie flowers lie low: The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass Is swept away by wheat, Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by In the spring that still is sweet. But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring Left […]...
12. The Widow Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell, Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked, When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey Weary and way-sore. Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflexions; Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom! She had no home, the world was all before […]...
13. Within my Garden, rides a Bird Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As ’twere a travelling Mill He never stops, but slackens Above the Ripest Rose Partakes without alighting And praises as he goes, Till every spice is tasted And then his Fairy Gig Reels in remoter atmospheres And I rejoin […]...
14. The Widow's Home Close on the margin of a brawling brook That bathes the low dell’s bosom, stands a Cot; O’ershadow’d by broad Alders. At its door A rude seat, with an ozier canopy Invites the weary traveller to rest. ‘Tis a poor humble dwelling; yet within, The sweets of joy domestic, oft have made The long hour […]...
15. I Am Like One That For Long Days Had Sate I AM like one that for long days had sate, With seaward eyes set keen against the gale, On some lone foreland, watching sail by sail, The portbound ships for one ship that was late; And sail by sail, his heart burned up with joy, And cruelly was quenched, until at last One ship, the […]...
16. A Late Walk When I go up through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew, Half closes the garden path. And when I come to the garden ground, The whir of sober birds Up from the tangle of withered weeds Is sadder than any words A tree beside the wall stands bare, […]...
17. Song For Heroes Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave; He refused to abandon his ship; A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave- And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp, Haw! Haw! His widow is now Mrs. Bipp! Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace; Five thousand feet up he was hit; Each year on his grave pretty […]...
18. Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay....
19. Jack Honest, or the Widow and Her Son Jack Honest was only eight years of age when his father died, And by the death of his father, Mrs Honest was sorely tried; And Jack was his father’s only joy and pride, And for honesty Jack couldn’t be equalled in the country-side. So a short time before Jack’s father died, ‘Twas loud and bitterly […]...
20. Mourning Alas my brother! the cry of the mourners of old That cried on each other, All crying aloud on the dead as the death-note rolled, Alas my brother! As flashes of dawn that mists from an east wind smother With fold upon fold, The past years gleam that linked us one with another. Time sunders […]...
21. Looking For a Sunset Bird in Winter The west was getting out of gold, The breath of air had died of cold, When shoeing home across the white, I thought I saw a bird alight. In summer when I passed the place I had to stop and lift my face; A bird with an angelic gift Was singing in it sweet and […]...
22. My Father's Love Letters On Fridays he’d open a can of Jax After coming home from the mill, & ask me to write a letter to my mother Who sent postcards of desert flowers Taller than men. He would beg, Promising to never beat her Again. Somehow I was happy She had gone, & sometimes wanted To slip in […]...
23. Weird-Bird Birds are flyin’ south for winter. Here’s the Weird-Bird headin’ north, Wings a-flappin’, beak a-chatterin’, Cold head bobbin’ back ‘n’ forth. He says, “It’s not that I like ice Or freezin’ winds and snowy ground. It’s just sometimes it’s kind of nice To be the only bird in town.”...
24. Last Love The first flower of the spring is not so fair Or bright, as one the ripe midsummer brings. The first faint note the forest warbler sings Is not as rich with feeling, or so rare As when, full master of his art, the air Drowns in the liquid sea of song he flings Like silver […]...
25. Love and Sleep Lying asleep between the strokes of night I saw my love lean over my sad bed, Pale as the duskiest lily’s leaf or head, Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite, Too wan for blushing and too warm for white, But perfect-colored without white or red. And her lips opened amorously, and said […]...
26. Mourning and Longing The Saviour hides His face; My spirit thirsts to prove Renew’d supplies of pardoning grace, And never-fading love. The favor’d souls who know What glories shine in Him, Pant for His presence as the roe Pants for the living stream. What trifles tease me now! They swarm like summer flies! They cleave to everything I […]...
27. Mirth And Mourning ‘O cast away your sorrow; A while, at least, be gay! If grief must come tomorrow, At least, be glad today! ‘How can you still be sighing When smiles are everywhere? The little birds are flying So blithely through the air; ‘The sunshine glows so brightly O’er all the blooming earth; And every heart beats […]...
28. Love Song I lie here thinking of you:- The stain of love Is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow It eats into the leaves, Smears with saffron The horned branched the lean Heavily Against a smooth purple sky! There is no light Only a honey-thick stain That drips from leaf to leaf And limb to limb Spoiling […]...
29. If I Could Mourn Like A Mourning Dove It is what recurs that we believe, Your face not at one moment looking Sideways up at me anguished or Elate, but the old words welling up by Gravity rearranged: Two weeks before you died in Pain worn out, after my usual casual sign-off With All my love, your simple Solemn My love to you, […]...
30. The Wounded Bird In the wide bed Under the freen embroidered quilt With flowers and leaves always in soft motion She is like a wounded bird resting on a pool. The hunter threw his dart And hit her breast, Hit her but did not kill. “O my wings, lift me lift me! I am not dreadfully hurt!” Down […]...
31. For every Bird a Nest For every Bird a Nest Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking round Wherefore when boughs are free Households in every tree Pilgrim be found? Perhaps a home too high Ah Aristocracy! The little Wren desires Perhaps of twig so fine Of twine e’en superfine, Her pride aspires The Lark is not ashamed […]...
32. A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say The breath goes now, and some say, No: So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move, ‘Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love. Moving of […]...
33. Hymn To Life The hair falling on your forehead suddenly lifted. Suddenly something stirred on the ground. The trees are whispering in the dark. Your bare arms will be cold. Far off where we can’t see, the moon must be rising. It hasn’t reached us yet, slipping through the leaves to light up your shoulder. But I know […]...
34. Range-Finding The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung And cut a flower beside a ground bird’s nest Before it stained a single human breast. The stricken flower bent double and so hung. And still the bird revisited her young. A butterfly its fall had dispossessed A moment sought in air his flower of rest, Then lightly stooped […]...
35. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
36. The Bird's Bargain ‘O spare my cherries in the net,’ Brother Benignus prayed; ‘and I Summer and winter, shine and wet, Will pile the blackbirds’ table high.’ ‘O spare my youngling peas,’ he prayed, ‘That for the Abbot’s table be; And every blackbird shall be fed; Yea, they shall have their fill,’ said he. His prayer, his vow, […]...
37. The Poor Boy's Christmas Observe, my child, this pretty scene, And note the air of pleasure keen With which the widow’s orphan boy Toots his tin horn, his only toy. What need of costly gifts has he? The widow has nowhere to flee. And ample noise his horn emits To drive the widow into fits. MORAL: The philosophic mind […]...
38. Paradise Seed Where is the seed Of the tree felled, Of the forest burned, Or living root Under ash and cinders? From woven bud What last leaf strives Into life, last Shrivelled flower? Is fruit of our harvest, Our long labour Dust to the core? To what far, fair land Borne on the wind What winged seed […]...
39. Flower of Love The perfume of your body dulls my sense. I want nor wine nor weed; your breath alone Suffices. In this moment rare and tense I worship at your breast. The flower is blown, The saffron petals tempt my amorous mouth, The yellow heart is radiant now with dew Soft-scented, redolent of my loved South; O […]...
40. The Loss of Love All through an empty place I go, And find her not in any room; The candles and the lamps I light Go down before a wind of gloom. Thick-spraddled lies the dust about, A fit, sad place to write her name Or draw her face the way she looked That legendary night she came. The […]...