Malvern abbey

Related poetry:

1. Malvern Hill Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill In prime of morn and May, Recall ye how McClellan’s men Here stood at bay? While deep within yon forest dim Our rigid comrades lay – Some with the cartridge in their mouth, Others with fixed arms lifted South – Invoking so The cypress glades? Ah wilds of […]...
2. Abbey Assaroe Gray, gray is Abbey Assaroe, by Belashanny town, It has neither door nor window, the walls are broken down; The carven-stones lie scatter’d in briar and nettle-bed! The only feet are those that come at burial of the dead. A little rocky rivulet runs murmuring to the tide, Singing a song of ancient days, in […]...
3. Netley Abbey Fallen pile! I ask not what has been thy fate; But when the winds, slow wafted from the main, Through each rent arch, like spirits that complain, Come hollow to my ear, I meditate On this world’s passing pageant, and the lot Of those who once majestic in their prime Stood smiling at decay, till […]...
4. In Westminster Abbey Let me take this other glove off As the vox humana swells, And the beauteous fields of Eden Bask beneath the Abbey bells. Here, where England’s statesmen lie, Listen to a lady’s cry. Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans, Spare their women for Thy Sake, And if that is not too easy We will pardon […]...
5. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
6. At The Abbey Theatre (Imitated from Ronsard) Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into our case. When we are high and airy hundreds say That if we hold that flight they’ll leave the place, While those same hundreds mock another day Because we have made our art of common things, So bitterly, you’d dream they longed to look All their lives […]...
7. The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
8. THE DAYS GO BY for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want to, want to throw It away like an old worn-out cloak Or screw up like a ball of over-written Trash and toss into the corner bin. I said it must come up or out I […]...
9. The Pain of Earth DOES the earth grow grey with grief For her hero darling fled? Though her vales let fall no leaf, In our hearts her tears are shed. Still the stars laugh on above: Not to them her grief is said; Mourning for her hero love In our hearts the tears are shed. We her children mourn […]...
10. Memorial To D. C (Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is, With hands that wrote you little notes I write you little elegies!...
11. The Poet What instinct forces man to journey on, Urged by a longing blind but dominant! Nothing he sees can hold him, nothing daunt His never failing eagerness. The sun Setting in splendour every night has won His vassalage; those towers flamboyant Of airy cloudland palaces now haunt His daylight wanderings. Forever done With simple joys and […]...
12. Morning Poem #6 groggy voice Hangover head Phone rongs Work call Money writing Muddled thoughts Adrenaline rush Hands clutch Power book Pauses comerapid doubts Make calls Take notes Ming push Fear waits...
13. To Marguerite Yes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone. The islands feel the enclasping flow, And then their endless bounds they know. But when the moon their hollows lights, And they are swept by balms of spring, And in their glens, […]...
14. In The Secular Night In the secular night you wander around Alone in your house. It’s two-thirty. Everyone has deserted you, Or this is your story; You remember it from being sixteen, When the others were out somewhere, having a good time, Or so you suspected, And you had to baby-sit. You took a large scoop of vanilla ice-cream […]...
15. A Case Of Murder They should not have left him there alone, Alone that is except for the cat. He was only nine, not old enough To be left alone in a basement flat, Alone, that is, except for the cat. A dog would have been a different thing, A big gruff dog with slashing jaws, But a cat […]...
16. In the Train AS we rush, as we rush in the Train, The trees and the houses go wheeling back, But the starry heavens above the plain Come flying on our track. All the beautiful stars of the sky, The silver doves of the forest of Night, Over the dull earth swarm and fly, Companions of our flight. […]...
17. Lover's Gifts XXXIX: There Is a Looker-On There is a looker-on who sits behind my eyes. I seems he has seen Things in ages and worlds beyond memory’s shore, and those Forgotten sights glisten on the grass and shiver on the leaves. He Has seen under new veils the face of the one beloved, in twilight Hours of many a nameless star. […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. West Riding Bright sari in a darkened street – The lilting grey of Yorkshire sky; Rust requiems for demolished mills – Repeating grooves of curlew’s cry. And did Jane once sit on this stile And watch the moon look down on Hay, And see the dog and hear the horse Send icy clatters through the grey? Then […]...
20. The Fisherman Although I can see him still. The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies, It’s long since I began To call up to the eyes This wise and simple man. All day I’d looked in the face What I had hoped […]...
21. Include Me Out I grabbed the new Who’s Who to see My name – but it was not. Said I: “The form they posted me I filled and sent – so what?” I searched the essies,” dour with doubt. . . Darn! It was plain as day The scurvy knaves had left me out. . . Oh was […]...
22. Salesmanship, With Half A Dram Of Tears Gripping the lectern, rocking it, searching The faces for the souls, for signs of heartfelt Mindfulness at work, I thought, as I recited Words I wrote in tears: instead of tears, If I had understood my father’s business, I could be selling men’s clothes. I could be Kneeling, complimenting someone at the bay Of mirrors, […]...
23. Only Dreams A maiden sat in teh sunset glow Of the shadowy, beautiful Long Ago, That we see through a mist of tears. She sat and dreamed, with lips apart, With thoughtful eyes and a beating heart, Of the mystical future years; And brighter far than the sunset skies Was the vision seen by the maiden’s eyes. […]...
24. Postscript And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake […]...
25. 152. Extempore in the Court of Session LORD ADVOCATEHE clenched his pamphlet in his fist, He quoted and he hinted, Till, in a declamation-mist, His argument he tint it: He gapèd for’t, he grapèd for’t, He fand it was awa, man; But what his common sense came short, He eked out wi’ law, man. MR. ERSKINECollected, Harry stood awee, Then open’d out […]...
26. THE FISHERMAN THE waters rush’d, the waters rose, A fisherman sat by, While on his line in calm repose He cast his patient eye. And as he sat, and hearken’d there, The flood was cleft in twain, And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair Sprang from the troubled main. She sang to him, and spake the while: “Why […]...
27. Damsel flies certain creatures it seems are never seen Straight on – they occupy the corner of the eye Once sensed (a second look) they’re gone The damsel even more so than the dragon-fly She’s a tough cookie for all her slender flutters Huge eyes strong jaws belie her evanescence The kind of female to leave love’s […]...
28. Isandlwana Scarlet coats, and crash o’ the band, The grey of a pauper’s gown, A soldier’s grave in Zululand, And a woman in Brecon Town. My little lad for a soldier boy, (Mothers o’ Brecon Town!) My eyes for tears and his for joy When he went from Brecon Town, His for the flags and the […]...
29. 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...
30. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
31. Tears TEARS! tears! tears! In the night, in solitude, tears; On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck’d in by the sand; Tears-not a star shining-all dark and desolate; Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head: -O who is that ghost?-that form in the dark, with tears? What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch’d there […]...
32. Agapanthus – african lily [from agape (love); anthus (flower)] You may not be willing to notice me I have an awkward sense of myself My name can be hard on the tongue I do not grow easily in places Where the sun only fitfully appears I’ve come a long way northwards Gardens do not flatter my needs I am […]...
33. The Partial Explanation Seems like a long time Since the waiter took my order. Grimy little luncheonette, The snow falling outside. Seems like it has grown darker Since I last heard the kitchen door Behind my back Since I last noticed Anyone pass on the street. A glass of ice-water Keeps me company At this table I chose […]...
34. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
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. Tavern I’ll keep a little tavern Below the high hill’s crest, Wherein all grey-eyed people May set them down and rest. There shall be plates a-plenty, And mugs to melt the chill Of all the grey-eyed people Who happen up the hill. There sound will sleep the traveller, And dream his journey’s end, But I will […]...
37. When it was autumn in Eden When it was autumn in Eden And chestnuts held golden leaves Against dimming light, Eve touched her toes on the sodden Soil – ran fingers through harvest sheaves – feeling all things were right : And hip and haw turned red – the sloe to dusk And swallows gathered in flocks with waitful wings. Then […]...
38. Anna Comnena In the prologue to her Alexiad, Anna Comnena laments her widowhood. Her soul is dizzy. “And with rivers Of tears,” she tells us “I wet My eyes… Alas for the waves” in her life, “alas for the revolts.” Pain burns her “to the the bones and the marrow and the cleaving of the soul.” But […]...
39. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
40. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...