Closed Path

Related poetry:

1. Poet's Path My garden hath a slender path With ivy overgrown, A secret place where once would pace A pot all alone; I see him now with fretted brow, Plunged deep in thought; And sometimes he would write maybe, And sometimes he would not. A verse a day he used to say Keeps worry from the door; […]...
2. Patience If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil And its head bent low with patience. The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, And thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky. […]...
3. The Lost Path The garden’s full of scented wallflowers, And, save that these stir faintly, nothing stirs; Only a distant bell in hollow chime Cried out just now for far-forgoten time, And three reverberate words the great bell spoke. The knocker’s made of brass, the door of oak, And such a clamor must be loosed on air By […]...
4. Sail Away Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat, Only thou and I, and never a soul in the world would know of this our Pilgrimage to no country and to no end. In that shoreless ocean, At thy silently listening smile my songs would swell in melodies, Free as […]...
5. Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill, And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words, And like unlettered clerk still cry “Amen” To every hymn that able spirit affords In polished form […]...
6. Sonnet LXXXV My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good thoughts whilst other write good words, And like unletter’d clerk still cry ‘Amen’ To every hymn that able spirit affords In polish’d form […]...
7. An Unfamiliar Path Walking an unfamiliar path that you’ve Never trod before, Or knocking on a strange and unfamiliar Door, Can be extremely scary as you never Really know Exactly who’s behind the door or where The path will go. Yet these are things we all must do To excel in life and grow, To find ourselves a […]...
8. Break, Break, Break Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the […]...
9. How the Waters closed above Him How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know How He stretched His Anguish to us That is covered too Spreads the Pond Her Base of Lilies Bold above the Boy Whose unclaimed Hat and Jacket Sum the History...
10. I closed my eyes to creation I closed my eyes to creation when I beheld his beauty, I became Intoxicated with his beauty and bestowed my soul. For the sake of Solomon’s seal I became wax in all my body, And in order to become illumined I rubbed my wax. I saw his opinion and cast away my own twisted opinion; […]...
11. Closed Gentian Distances A nothing day full of Wild beauty and the Timer pings. Roll up The silver off the bay Take down the clouds Sort the spruce and Send to laundry marked, More starch. Goodbye Golden – and silver- Rod, asters, bayberry Crisp in elegance. Little fish stream By, a river in water....
12. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 22. The path by which we twain did go The path by which we twain did go, Which led by tracts that pleased us well, Thro’ four sweet years arose and fell, From flower to flower, from snow to snow: And we with singing cheer’d the way, And, crown’d with all the season lent, From April on to April went, And glad at heart […]...
13. My life closed twice before its close My life closed twice before its close It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell....
14. More than the Grave is closed to me More than the Grave is closed to me The Grave and that Eternity To which the Grave adheres I cling to nowhere till I fall The Crash of nothing, yet of all How similar appears...
15. Sonnet XLVI: Plain-Path'd Experience Plain-path’d Experience, th’unlearned’s guide, Her simple followers evidently shows Sometimes what Schoolmen scarcely can decide, Nor yet wise Reason absolutely knows. In making trial of a murther wrought, If the vile actors of the heinous deed Near the dead body happily be brought, Oft it hath been prov’d the breathless corse will bleed. She’s coming […]...
16. Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised: The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised; That being now with her huge brightness dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view; But looking still on her, I stand […]...
17. The Path RUNNING along a bank, a parapet That saves from the precipitous wood below The level road, there is a path. It serves Children for looking down the long smooth steep, Between the legs of beech and yew, to where A fallen tree checks the sight: while men and women Content themselves with the road and […]...
18. The Forest Path Oh, the charm of idle dreaming Where the dappled shadows dance, All the leafy aisles are teeming With the lure of old romance! Down into the forest dipping, Deep and deeper as we go, One might fancy dryads slipping Where the white-stemmed birches grow. Lurking gnome and freakish fairy In the fern may peep and […]...
19. The Fruit Garden Path The path runs straight between the flowering rows, A moonlit path, hemmed in by beds of bloom, Where phlox and marigolds dispute for room With tall, red dahlias and the briar rose. ‘T is reckless prodigality which throws Into the night these wafts of rich perfume Which sweep across the garden like a plume. Over […]...
20. They Who Tread the Path of Labor They who tread the path of labor follow where My feet have trod; They who work without complaining, do the holy will of God; Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere; Raise the stone, and thou shalt find Me, clease the wood and I am there. Where the many toil together, there […]...
21. TO SIR CLIPSBY CREW Since to the country first I came, I have lost my former flame; And, methinks, I not inherit, As I did, my ravish’d spirit. If I write a verse or two, ‘Tis with very much ado; In regard I want that wine Which should conjure up a line. Yet, though now of Muse bereft, I […]...
22. Temple Tree Path Narrow path sunless temple locust tree Deep dark much green moss Should gate except meet sweep In case have hill monk come A narrow, sunless path to the temple tree, Deep and dark; abundant green moss. Wait by the gate when finished sweeping the yard, In case a monk should come down from the hill....
23. A Song I thought no more was needed Youth to polong Than dumb-bell and foil To keep the body young. O who could have foretold That thc heart grows old? Though I have many words, What woman’s satisfied, I am no longer faint Because at her side? O who could have foretold That the heart grows old? […]...
24. "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 […]...
25. When All My Five And Country Senses See When all my five and country senses see, The fingers will forget green thumbs and mark How, through the halfmoon’s vegetable eye, Husk of young stars and handfull zodiac, Love in the frost is pared and wintered by, The whispering ears will watch love drummed away Down breeze and shell to a discordant beach, And, […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. She She who ever had remained in the depth of my being, In the twilight of gleams and of glimpses; She who never opened her veils in the morning light, Will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song. Words have wooed yet failed to win her; Persuasion has stretched to […]...
29. Talisman it is written The act of writing is Holy words are Sacred and your breath Brings out the God in them I write these words Quickly repeat them Softly to myself This talisman for you Fold this prayer Around your neck fortify Your back with these Whispers May you walk ever Loved and in love […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. Spartan Mother My mother loved her horses and Her hounds of pedigree; She did not kiss the baby hand I held to her in glee. Of course I had a sweet nou-nou Who tended me with care, And mother reined her nag to view Me with a critic air. So I went to a famous school, But […]...
32. Heritage Now the dead past seems vividly alive, And in this shining moment I can trace, Down through the vista of the vanished years, Your faun-like form, your fond elusive face. And suddenly some secret spring’s released, And unawares a riddle is revealed, And I can read like large, black-lettered print, What seemed before a thing […]...
33. 452. Epigram pinned to Mrs. Riddell's carriage IF you rattle along like your Mistress’ tongue, Your speed will outrival the dart; But a fly for your load, you’ll break down on the road, If your stuff be as rotten’s her heart....
34. There is another Loneliness There is another Loneliness That many die without Not want of friend occasions it Or circumstances of Lot But nature, sometimes, sometimes thought And whoso it befall Is richer than could be revealed By mortal numeral...
35. To the Etruscan Poets Dream fluently, still brothers, who when young Took with your mother’s milk the mother tongue, In which pure matrix, joining world and mind, You strove to leave some line of verse behind Like still fresh tracks across a field of snow, Not reckoning that all could melt and go....
36. A SIMPLE POEM I want you to continue writing Because I will not always be around With lips that will never touch mine Read your poems out loud So that the words are left engraved On the wall Make me feel your voice rush through me Like a breeze from Oyá I want to hear about Puerto Rico […]...
37. The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, And frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say, God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words Get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according To which nation. French has no word for home, And we have no word […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. Infelice Walking swiftly with a dreadful duchess, He smiled too briefly, his face was pale as sand, He jumped into a taxi when he saw me coming, Leaving my alone with a private meaning, He loves me so much, my heart is singing. Later at the Club when I rang him in the evening They said: […]...
40. 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 […]...