The Gardener XIV: I Was Walking by the Road

Related poetry:

1. The Gardener XIII: I Asked Nothing I asked nothing, only stood at the Edge of the wood behind the tree. Languor was still upon the eyes Of the dawn, and the dew in the air. The lazy smell of the damp grass Hung in the thin mist above the earth. Under the banyan tree you were Milking the cow with your […]...
2. The Gardener LV: It Was Mid-Day It was mid-day when you went Away. The sun was strong in the sky. I had done my work and sat alone On my balcony when you went away. Fitful gusts came winnowing Through the smells of may distant Fields. The doves cooed tireless in the shade, And a bee strayed in my room hum- […]...
3. In the footsteps of the walking air In the footsteps of the walking air Sky’s prophetic chickens weave their cloth of awe And hillsides lift green wings in somber journeying. Night in his soft haste bumps on the shoulders of the abyss And a single drop of dark blood covers the earth. Now is the China of the spirit at walking In […]...
4. Lover's Gifts XLVIII: I Travelled the Old Road I travelled the old road every day, I took my fruits to the market, My cattle to the meadows, I ferried my boat across the stream and All the ways were well known to me. One morning my basket was heavy with wares. Men were busy in The fields, the pastures crowded with cattle; the […]...
5. Looking, Walking, Being “The World is not something to Look at, it is something to be in.” Mark Rudman I look and look. Looking’s a way of being: one becomes, Sometimes, a pair of eyes walking. Walking wherever looking takes one. The eyes Dig and burrow into the world. They touch Fanfare, howl, madrigal, clamor. World and the […]...
6. The Road I, too, would ease my old car to a stop On the side of some country road And count the stars or admire a sunset Or sit quietly through an afternoon…. I’d open the door and go walking Like James Wright across a meadow, Where I might touch a pony’s ear and Break into blossom; […]...
7. No Road Since we agreed to let the road between us Fall to disuse, And bricked our gates up, planted trees to screen us, And turned all time’s eroding agents loose, Silence, and space, and strangers – our neglect Has not had much effect. Leaves drift unswept, perhaps; grass creeps unmown; No other change. So clear it […]...
8. The Road to Avignon A Minstrel stands on a marble stair, Blown by the bright wind, debonair; Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, Above on the terrace a turret door Frames a lady, listless and wan, But fair for the eye to rest upon. The minstrel plucks at his silver strings, And looking up to the lady, sings: […]...
9. The Gardener XLVIII: Free Me Free me from the bonds of your Sweetness, my love! Nor more of this Wine of kisses. This mist of heavy incense stifles My heart. Open the doors, make room for the Morning light. I am lost in you, wrapped in the Folds of your caresses. Free me from your spells, and give Me back […]...
10. The Gardener IX: When I Go Alone at Night When I go alone at night to my Love-tryst, birds do not sing, the wind Does not stir, the houses on both sides Of the street stand silent. It is my own anklets that grow loud At every step and I am ashamed. When I sit on my balcony and listen For his footsteps, leaves […]...
11. Walking Across The Atlantic I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach Before stepping onto the first wave. Soon I am walking across the Atlantic Thinking about Spain, Checking for whales, waterspouts. I feel the water holding up my shifting weight. Tonight I will sleep on its rocking surface. But for now I try to imagine what […]...
12. White in the Moon the Long Road Lies White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers […]...
13. The Road to Old Man's Town The fields of youth are filled with flowers, The wine of youth is strong: What need have we to count the hours? The summer days are long. But soon we find to our dismay That we are drifting down The barren slopes that fall away Towards the foothills grim and grey That lead to Old […]...
14. The Gardener LXIV: I Spent My Day I spent my day on the scorching Hot dust of the road. Now, in the cool of the evening, I Knock at the door of the inn. It is Deserted and in ruins. A grim ashath tree spreads its Hungry clutching roots through the Gaping fissures of the walls. Days have been when wayfarers Came […]...
15. Walking With God (Genesis, v.24) Oh! for a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame; A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb! Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord? Where is the soul-refershing view Of Jesus and his word? What peaceful hours I once enjoyed! […]...
16. The Road The road is thronged with women; soldiers pass And halt, but never see them; yet they’re here – A patient crowd along the sodden grass, Silent, worn out with waiting, sick with fear. The road goes crawling up a long hillside, All ruts and stones and sludge, and the emptied dregs Of battle thrown in […]...
17. The Gardener XVIII: When Two Sisters When the two sisters go to fetch Water, they come to this spot and They smile. They must be aware of somebody Who stands behind the trees when- Ever they go to fetch water. The two sisters whisper to each Other when they pass this spot. They must have guessed the secret Of that somebody […]...
18. Just Walking Around What name do I have for you? Certainly there is not name for you In the sense that the stars have names That somehow fit them. Just walking around, An object of curiosity to some, But you are too preoccupied By the secret smudge in the back of your soul To say much and wander […]...
19. The Road to Gundagai The mountain road goes up and down From Gundagai to Tumut Town And, branching off, there runs a track Across the foothills grim and black, Across the plains and ranges grey To Sydney city far away. It came by chance one day that I From Tumut rode to Gundagai, And reached about the evening tide […]...
20. The Rolling English Road Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire, And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire; A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread The […]...
21. The Road That Runs Beside The River follows the river as it bends Along the valley floor, Going the way it must. Where water goes, so goes the road, If there’s room (not in a ravine, Gorge), the river On your right or left. Left is better: when you’re driving, It’s over your elbow across The road. You see the current, which […]...
22. The Gardener LXXVI: The Fair Was On The fair was on before the temple. It had rained from the early morning And the day came to its end. Brighter than all the gladness of The crowd was the bright smile of A girl who bought for a farthing a Whistle of palm leaf. The shrill joy of that whistle floated Above all […]...
23. Lover's Gifts XLVII: The Road Is The road is my wedded companion. She speaks to me under my feet all Day, she sings to my dreams all night. My meeting with her had no beginning, it begins endlessly at Each daybreak, renewing its summer in fresh flowers and songs, and Her every new kiss is the first kiss to me. The […]...
24. Brookland Road I was very well pleased with what I knowed, I reckoned myself no fool Till I met with a maid on the Brookland Road, That turned me back to school. Low down-low down! Where the liddle green lanterns shine O maids, I’ve done with ‘ee all but one, And she can never’ be mine! ‘Twas […]...
25. Tewkesbury Road IT is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where, Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why; Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air, Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky. […]...
26. The Gardener X: Let Your Work Be, Bride Let your work be, bride. Listen, the Guest has come. Do you hear, he is gently shaking The chain which fastens the door? See that your anklets make no loud Noise, and that your step is not over- Hurried at meeting him. Let your work be, bride, the guest Had come in the evening. No, […]...
27. The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy […]...
28. The Gardener XIX: You Walked You walked by the riverside path With the full pitcher upon your hip. Why did you swiftly turn your face And peep at me through your fluttering Veil? That gleaming look from the dark Came upon me like a breeze that sends A shiver through the rippling water And sweeps away to the shadowy Shore. […]...
29. Walking in the sky Walking in the sky, A man in strange black garb Encountered a radiant form. Then his steps were eager; Bowed he devoutly. “My Lord,” said he. But the spirit knew him not....
30. The Roman Road The Roman Road runs straight and bare As the pale parting-line in hair Across the heath. And thoughtful men Contrast its days of Now and Then, And delve, and measure, and compare; Visioning on the vacant air Helmeted legionnaires, who proudly rear The Eagle, as they pace again The Roman Road. But no tall brass-helmeted […]...
31. The Gardener LXXXIII: She Dwelt on the Hillside She dwelt on the hillside by edge Of a maize-field, near the spring that Flows in laughing rills through the Solemn shadows of ancient trees. The Women came there to fill their jars, And travellers would sit there to rest And talk. She worked and dreamed Daily to the tune of the bubbling Stream. One […]...
32. The Gardener LXXXIV: Over the Green Over the green and yellow rice-fields Sweep the shadows of the autumn Clouds followed by the swift-chasing Sun. The bees forget to sip their honey; Drunken with light they foolishly hover And hum. The ducks in the islands of the river Clamour in joy for mere nothing. Let none go back home, brothers, This morning, […]...
33. The Road to Paradise is plain The Road to Paradise is plain, And holds scarce one. Not that it is not firm But we presume A Dimpled Road Is more preferred. The Belles of Paradise are few Not me nor you But unsuspected things Mines have no Wings....
34. Lover's Gifts XVI: She Dwelt Here by the Pool She dwelt here by the pool with its landing-stairs in ruins. Many An evening she had watched the moon made dizzy by the shaking of Bamboo leaves, and on many a rainy day the smell of the wet earth Had come to her over the young shoots of rice. Her pet name is known here […]...
35. A Song of the Road O I will walk with you, my lad, whichever way you fare, You’ll have me, too, the side o’ you, with heart as light as air; No care for where the road you take’s a-leadin’ anywhere, It can but be a joyful ja’nt whilst you journey there. The road you take’s the path o’ love, […]...
36. The Road was lit with Moon and star The Road was lit with Moon and star The Trees were bright and still Descried I by the distant Light A Traveller on a Hill To magic Perpendiculars Ascending, though Terrene Unknown his shimmering ultimate But he indorsed the sheen...
37. Wanting The Moon Not the moon. A flower On the other side of the water. The water sweeps past in flood, Dragging a whole tree by the hair, A barn, a bridge. The flower Sings on the far bank. Not a flower, a bird calling Hidden among the darkest trees, music Over the water, making a silence Out […]...
38. Road and Hills I shall go away To the brown hills, the quiet ones, The vast, the mountainous, the rolling, Sun-fired and drowsy! My horse snuffs delicately At the strange wind; He settles to a swinging trot; his hoofs tramp the dust. The road winds, straightens, Slashes a marsh, Shoulders out a bridge, Then Again the hills. Unchanged, […]...
39. The Gardener LXXXI: Why Do You Whisper So Faintly Why do you whisper so faintly in My ears, O Death, my Death? When the flowers droop in the Evening and cattle come back to their Stalls, you stealthily come to my side And speak words that I do not Understand. Is this how you must woo and win Me with the opiate of drowsy […]...
40. Elegy: Walking the Line Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line, The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gum Superb above the cabin, along the wall- Stones gathered from the level field nearby When first we cleared it. (Angry bumblebees Stung the two mules. They kicked. Thirteen, I ran.) And then the field: thread-leaf maple, deciduous […]...