Passing Breeze

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1. Colors Passing Through Us Purple as tulips in May, mauve Into lush velvet, purple As the stain blackberries leave On the lips, on the hands, The purple of ripe grapes Sunlit and warm as flesh. Every day I will give you a color, Like a new flower in a bud vase On your desk. Every day I will paint […]...
2. The Passing of Gundagai “I’ll introduce a friend!” he said, “And if you’ve got a vacant pen You’d better take him in the shed And start him shearing straight ahead; He’s one of these here quiet men. “He never strikes that ain’t his game; No matter what the others try He goes on shearing just the same. I never […]...
3. A Strange Gentlewoman Passing By His Window As I out of a casement sent Mine eyes as wand’ring as my thought, Upon no certayne object bent, But only what occasion brought, A sight surpriz’d my hart at last, Nor knewe I well what made it burne; Amazement held me then so fast I had no leasure to discerne. Sure ’twas a Mortall, […]...
4. The Passing Of The Year My glass is filled, my pipe is lit, My den is all a cosy glow; And snug before the fire I sit, And wait to feel the old year go. I dedicate to solemn thought Amid my too-unthinking days, This sober moment, sadly fraught With much of blame, with little praise. Old Year! upon the […]...
5. To the Tune of The fragrance of the pink lotus Fails, the jade mat hints of autumn. Softly I unfasten my silk cloak, Who is sending a letter from Among the clouds? When the swan message returns, The balcony is flooded with moonlight. The blossoms drift on, the water flows. There is the same yearning of the heart, But […]...
6. Exhilaration is the Breeze Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found Returns us not, but after time We soberly descend A little newer for the term Upon Enchanted Ground...
7. An English Breeze UP with the sun, the breeze arose, Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wide Through all the voiceful countryside. Through all the land her tale she tells; She spins, she tosses, she compels The kites, the clouds, the windmill sails And all the trees in all the dales. God […]...
8. Passing showers Yesterday a passing, transient shower, Slaked my thirst so gently, softly, Showers in March are unheard – In this arid part of the world. They say the world is dying, I know, I remember how you said love died, It was a passing shower, a fancy, That left you cold and shivering. This distance, these […]...
9. Animals Are Passing From Our Lives It’s wonderful how I jog On four honed-down ivory toes My massive buttocks slipping Like oiled parts with each light step. I’m to market. I can smell The sour, grooved block, I can smell The blade that opens the hole And the pudgy white fingers That shake out the intestines Like a hankie. In my […]...
10. The Passing Strange Out of the earth to rest or range Perpetual in perpetual change, The unknown passing through the strange. Water and saltness held together To tread the dust and stand the weather, And plough the field and stretch the tether, To pass the wine-cup and be witty, Water the sands and build the city, Slaughter like […]...
11. The Passing Of Arthur That story which the bold Sir Bedivere, First made and latest left of all the knights, Told, when the man was no more than a voice In the white winter of his age, to those With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds. For on their march to westward, Bedivere, Who slowly paced among the […]...
12. Passing away, saith the World Passing away, saith the World, passing away: Chances, beauty and youth, sapp’d day by day: Thy life never continueth in one stay. Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey That hath won neither laurel nor bay? I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May: Thou, root-stricken, shalt not […]...
13. 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: […]...
14. Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur (excerpt) That story which the bold Sir Bedivere, First made and latest left of all the knights, Told, when the man was no more than a voice In the white winter of his age, to those With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds. For on their march to westward, Bedivere, Who slowly paced among the […]...
15. Style Flaubert wanted to write a novel About nothing. It was to have no subject And be sustained upon the style alone, Like the Holy Ghost cruising above The abyss, or like the little animals In Disney cartoons who stand upon a branch That breaks, but do not fall Till they look down. He never wrote […]...
16. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
17. Passing Through Nobody in the widow’s household Ever celebrated anniversaries. In the secrecy of my room I would not admit I cared That my friends were given parties. Before I left town for school My birthday went up in smoke In a fire at City Hall that gutted The Department of Vital Statistics. If it weren’t for […]...
18. A Passing Bell Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving; What did you say, my dear? The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob – Yes, my love, I hear. One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon is braving, Why not let it […]...
19. Sonnet LXVII: On Passing over a Dreary Tract Swift fleet the billowy clouds along the sky, Earth seems to shudder at the storm aghast; While only beings as forlorn as I, Court the chill horrors of the howling blast. Even round yon crumbling walls, in search of food, The ravenous Owl foregoes his evening flight, And in his cave, within the deepest wood, […]...
20. 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 […]...
21. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
22. Passing Out The doctor fingers my bruise. “Magnificent,” he says, “black At the edges and purple Cored.” Seated, he spies for clues, Gingerly probing the slack Flesh, while I, standing, fazed, pull For air, losing the battle. Faced by his aged diploma, The heavy head of the X – Ray, and the iron saddle, I grow lonely. […]...
23. A Passing Hail Let us rest ourselves a bit! Worry? wave your hand to it Kiss your finger-tips and smile It farewell a little while. Weary of the weary way We have come from Yesterday, Let us fret not, instead, Of the wary way ahead. Let us pause and catch our breath On the hither side of death, […]...
24. Meeting and Passing As I went down the hill along the wall There was a gate I had leaned at for the view And had just turned from when I first saw you As you came up the hill. We met. But all We did that day was mingle great and small Footprints in summer dust as if […]...
25. A Passing Glimpse To Ridgely Torrence On Last Looking into His ‘Hesperides’ I often see flowers from a passing car That are gone before I can tell what they are. I want to get out of the train and go back To see what they were beside the track. I name all the flowers I am sure they […]...
26. I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night, The sweep of each sad lost wave, The dwindling boom of the steel thing’s striving, The little cry of a man to a man, A shadow falling across the greyer night, And the sinking of the small star; Then the waste, the far waste of […]...
27. Why I Wake Early Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who made the morning And spread it over the fields And into the faces of the tulips And the nodding morning glories, And into the windows of, even, the Miserable and the crotchety – Best preacher that ever was, Dear star, that just happens To be where you […]...
28. Sonnet IX Amid the florid multitude her face Was like the full moon seen behind the lace Of orchard boughs where clouded blossoms part When Spring shines in the world and in the heart. As the full-moon-beams to the ferny floor Of summer woods through flower and foliage pour, So to my being’s innermost recess Flooded the […]...
29. The Message Wind of the gentle summer night, Dwell in the lilac tree, Sway the blossoms clustered light, Then blow over to me. Wind, you are sometimes strong and great, You frighten the ships at sea, Now come floating your delicate freight Out of the lilac tree, Wind you must waver a gossamer sail To ferry a […]...
30. The Appology ‘Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule I am alone forbid to play the fool To follow through the Groves a wand’ring Muse And fain’d Idea’s for my pleasures chuse Why shou’d it in my Pen be held a fault Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought Whilst Lamia to […]...
31. 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 […]...
32. To the President of Magdalen College, Oxford Since now from woodland mist and flooded clay I am fled beside the steep Devonian shore, Nor stand for welcome at your gothic door, ‘Neath the fair tower of Magdalen and May, Such tribute, Warren, as fond poets pay For generous esteem, I write, not more Enhearten’d than my need is, reckoning o’er My life-long […]...
33. 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. […]...
34. From Shadow Now the November skies, And the clouds that are thin and gray, That drop with the wind away; A flood of sunlight rolls, In a tide of shallow light, Gold on the land and white On the water, dim and warm in the wood; Then it is gone, and the wan Clear of the shade […]...
35. The Oldest Song “These were never your true love’s eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies, And the wide calm brows above them! This was never your true love’s speech. Why do you thrill when you hear it? You that have ridden out of its reach The width of the […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand, Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand; Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies, But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan. The […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
40. After All The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town; My spirit revives in the morning breeze, Though it died when the sun went down; The river is high and the stream is strong, And the grass is green and tall, And I fain would think that this world of ours is […]...