Richard Aldington
Childhood
I The bitterness. the misery, the wretchedness of childhood Put me out of love with God. I can’t believe in God’s goodness; I can believe In many avenging gods. Most of all I believe
Daisy
Plus quan se atque suos amavit omnes, Nunc… – Catullus You were my playmate by the sea. We swam together. Your girl’s body had no breasts. We found prawns among the rocks; We liked
At the British Museum
I turn the page and read: “I dream of silent verses where the rhyme Glides noiseless as an oar.” The heavy musty air, the black desks, The bent heads and the rustling noises In
Goodbye!
Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth And feel her strength through all your veins; Breathe her full odors, taste her mouth, Which laughs away imagined pains; Touch her life’s womb, yet know
Prelude
How could I love you more? I would give up Even that beauty I have loved too well That I might love you better. Alas, how poor the gifts that lovers give I can
Lemures
In Nineveh And beyond Nineveh In the dusk They were afraid. In Thebes of Egypt In the dust They chanted of them to the dead. In my Lesbos and Achaia Where the God dwelt
The Faun Sees Snow for the First Time
Zeus, Brazen-thunder-hurler, Cloud-whirler, son-of-Kronos, Send vengeance on these Oreads Who strew White frozen flecks of mist and cloud Over the brown trees and the tufted grass Of the meadows, where the stream Runs black
Epilogue
Che son contenti nel fuoco We are of those that Dante saw Glad, for love’s sake, among the flames of hell, Outdaring with a kiss all-powerful wrath; For we have passed athwart a fiercer
Images
I Like a gondola of green scented fruits Drifting along the dark canals of Venice, You, O exquisite one, Have entered into my desolate city. II The blue smoke leaps Like swirling clouds of
Bombardment
Four days the earth was rent and torn By bursting steel, The houses fell about us; Three nights we dared not sleep, Sweating, and listening for the imminent crash Which meant our death. The
The Poplar
Why do you always stand there shivering Between the white stream and the road? The people pass through the dust On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars; The waggoners go by at down; The lovers
Round-Pond
Water ruffled and speckled by galloping wind Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breaks Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon sunlight. The shining of the sun upon the water Is like a scattering of