The Village

Related poetry:

1. Village Mystery The woman in the pointed hood And cloak blue-gray like a pigeon’s wing, Whose orchard climbs to the balsam-wood, Has done a cruel thing. To her back door-step came a ghost, A girl who had been ten years dead, She stood by the granite hitching-post And begged for a piece of bread. Now why should […]...
2. The Village Blacksmith Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns […]...
3. Queen Mab in the Village Once I loved a fairy, Queen Mab it was. Her voice Was like a little Fountain That bids the birds rejoice. Her face was wise and solemn, Her hair was brown and fine. Her dress was pansy velvet, A butterfly design. To see her hover round me Or walk the hills of air, Awakened love’s […]...
4. The Deserted Village Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid, And parting summer’s lingering blooms delayed: Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, where every sport could please, How often have I loitered o’er your green, Where humble happiness […]...
5. Tomes There is a section in my library for death And another for Irish history, A few shelves for the poetry of China and Japan, And in the center a row of imperturbable reference books, The ones you can turn to anytime, When the night is going wrong Or when the day is full of empty […]...
6. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
7. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
8. In The Village Of My Ancestors Someone embraces me Someone looks at me with the eyes of a wolf Someone takes off his hat So I can see him better Everyone asks me Do you know how I’m related to you Unknown old men and women Appropriate the names Of young men and women from my memory I ask one of […]...
9. Girl (three) and the black horse i want to hold the horse’s string Cried the girl (three) stamping her foot Told by adults she was much too young The black horse stood staring at the wall It worries us you may get hurt The adults whispered – meaning to offer Comfort to the little madam (not convinced) The black horse stood […]...
10. Village Song HONEY, child, honey, child, whither are you going? Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing? Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you? Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you? Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going, Where upon the champa […]...
11. Baby's World I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby’s very Own world. I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops Down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows. Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if […]...
12. PLEA FOR A HISTORY OF WORKING-CLASS LEEDS I want a true history of my city FUCK THE DE LACY FAMILY AND DOUBLE FUCK JOHN OF GAUNT ESPECIALLY And all his descendants With their particular vilenesses – I met one in the sixties Who had all the coldness of Himmler So svelte and adored by the cognoscenti. I want a history responsive To […]...
13. The Illinois Village O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones of fear, Who weep that Liberty must die, Turn to the little prairie towns, Your higher hope shall yet begin. On every side awaits you there Some gate where glory enters in. Yet when I […]...
14. THE MOUNTAIN VILLAGE “THE mountain village was destroy’d; But see how soon is fill’d the void! Shingles and boards, as by magic arise, The babe in his cradle and swaddling-clothes lies; How blest to trust to God’s protection!” Behold a wooden new erection, So that, if sparks and wind but choose, God’s self at such a game must […]...
15. The Village Green On the cheerful village green, Skirted round with houses small, All the boys and girls are seen, Playing there with hoop and ball. Now they frolic hand in hand, Making many a merry chain; Then they form a warlike band, Marching o’er the level plain. Now ascends the worsted ball, High it rises in the […]...
16. VII. At a Village in Scotland O NORTH! as thy romantic vales I leave, And bid farewell to each retiring hill, Where thoughtful fancy seems to linger still, Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve That mingled with the toiling croud, no more I shall return, your varied views to mark, Of rocks winding wild, and mountains hoar, Or castle […]...
17. The Village Garden To E. M. S. Here, where your garden fenced about and still is, Here, where the unmoved summer air is sweet With mixed delight of lavender and lilies, Dreaming I linger in the noontide heat. Of many summers are the trees recorders, The turf a carpet many summers wove; Old-fashioned blossoms cluster in the borders, […]...
18. The Dead Village Here there is death. But even here, they say, Here where the dull sun shines this afternoon As desolate as ever the dead moon Did glimmer on dead Sardis, men were gay; And there were little children here to play, With small soft hands that once did keep in tune The strings that stretch from […]...
19. Olmecs rule The news is out, down Veracruz they found the evidence, Olmecs had the written word 400 years before Sumerians. A Chinese claim predates all that, but let it rest. Examine what it means to Mesoamericans! Okay, you Spanish thinking converts to the English tongue, Reflect a while, your reaching back predates the sum Of everything […]...
20. Village Virtue Jenny was my first sweetheart; Poor lass! she was none too smart. Though I swore she’d never rue it, She would never let me do it. When I tried she mad a fuss, So damn pure and virtuous. Girls should cozen all they can, Use their wiles to get their man. June, my second, was […]...
21. Village Don Juan Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun; And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me; Ice-blue eyes on every hand, Handsomest youngsters in the land. “Old Stud Horse” they say of me, But back of my beard I laugh with glee. […]...
22. I often passed the village I often passed the village When going home from school And wondered what they did there And why it was so still I did not know the year then In which my call would come Earlier, by the Dial, Than the rest have gone. It’s stiller than the sundown. It’s cooler than the dawn The […]...
23. The Village Atheist Ye young debaters over the doctrine Of the soul’s immortality I who lie here was the village atheist, Talkative, contentious, versed in the arguments Of the infidels. But through a long sickness Coughing myself to death I read the Upanishads and the poetry of Jesus. And they lighted a torch of hope and intuition And […]...
24. Tarantella Do you remember an Inn, Miranda? Do you remember an Inn? And the tedding and the bedding Of the straw for a bedding, And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees, And the wine that tasted of tar? And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers (Under the vine of the dark […]...
25. Deborah's Parrot, a Village Tale ‘Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt: Her name was MISS, or MISTRESS, Brown, Or DEBORAH, or DEBBY: She Was doom’d a Spinster pure to be, For soft delights her breast ne’er felt: Yet, she had watchful Ears and Eyes For ev’ry youthful neighbour, And never did she cease to labour A […]...
26. The Village of Tayport and Its Surroundings All ye pleasure-seekers, where’er ye be, I pray ye all be advised by me, Go and visit Tayport on the banks o’ the Tay, And there ye can spend a pleasant holiday. The village and its surroundings are magnificent to be seen, And the shops on the High Street are tidy and clean, And the […]...
27. Beautiful Village of Penicuik The village of Penicuik, with its neighbouring spinning mills, Is most lovely to see, and the Pentland Hills; And though of a barren appearance and some parts steep, They are covered with fine pasture and sustain flocks of sheep. There, tourists while there should take a good look, By viewing the surrounding beauties of Penicuik; […]...
28. Village in Late Summer LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers....
29. Femina Contra Mundum The sun was black with judgment, and the moon Blood: but between I saw a man stand, saying: ‘To me at least The grass is green. ‘There was no star that I forgot to fear With love and wonder. The birds have loved me’; but no answer came Only the thunder. Once more the man […]...
30. The Fair Maid of Perth's House All ye good people, afar and near, To my request pray lend an ear; I advise you all without delay to go And see the Fair Maid’s House – it is a rare show. Some of the chairs there are very grand, They have been cut and carved by a skilful hand; And kings, perchance, […]...
31. Our Lady Peace How far is it to peace, the piper sighed, The solitary, sweating as he paused. Asphalt the noon; the ravens, terrified, Fled carrion thunder that percussion caused. The envelope of earth was powder loud; The taut wings shivered, driven at the sun. The piper put his pipe away and bowed. Not here, he said. I […]...
32. Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like […]...
33. Long-Legged Fly That civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent Where the maps ate spread, His eyes fixed upon nothing, A hand under his head. Like a long-legged fly upon the stream His mind moves upon silence. That the […]...
34. Ode To Pornography If you could write down the words Moving through a man’s mind as He masturbates you’d have a quick Bonus bonk read, I used to think. But words were never adequate Or the point in the bar where the girl Is a boy the boy is a girl the two girls Exchange underpants the one […]...
35. Ode To an Artichoke The artichoke Of delicate heart Erect In its battle-dress, builds Its minimal cupola; Keeps Stark In its scallop of Scales. Around it, Demoniac vegetables Bristle their thicknesses, Devise Tendrils and belfries, The bulb’s agitations; While under the subsoil The carrot Sleeps sound in its Rusty mustaches. Runner and filaments Bleach in the vineyards, Whereon rise […]...
36. The Solitary Huntsman The solitary huntsman No coat of pink doth wear, But midnight black from cap to spur Upon his midnight mare. He drones a tuneless jingle In lieu of tally-ho: “I’ll catch a fox And put him in a box And never let him go.” The solitary huntsman, He follows silent hounds. No horn proclaims his […]...
37. The Young Housewife At ten AM the young housewife Moves about in negligee behind The wooden walls of her husband’s house. I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb To call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands Shy, uncorseted, tucking in Stray ends of hair, and I compare her To a fallen leaf. The […]...
38. The Gardener XLVI: You Left Me You left me and went on your way. I thought I should mourn for you And set your solitary image in my Heart wrought in a golden song. But ah, my evil fortune, time is Short. Youth wanes year after year; the Spring days are fugitive; the frail Flowers die for nothing, and the wise […]...
39. The Blue Swallows Across the millstream below the bridge Seven blue swallows divide the air In shapes invisible and evanescent, Kaleidoscopic beyond the mind’s Or memory’s power to keep them there. “History is where tensions were,” “Form is the diagram of forces.” Thus, helplessly, there on the bridge, While gazing down upon those birds – How strange, to […]...
40. To A Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators Of His And Mine You say, as I have often given tongue In praise of what another’s said or sung, ‘Twere politic to do the like by these; But was there ever dog that praised his fleas?...