Thus the Mayne glideth

Related poetry:

1. The stork Last night the Stork came stalking, And, Stork, beneath your wing Lay, lapped in dreamless slumber, The tiniest little thing! From Babyland, out yonder Beside a silver sea, You brought a priceless treasure As gift to mine and me! Last night my dear one listened – And, wife, you knew the cry – The dear […]...
2. On Quitting How much grit do you think you’ve got? Can you quit a thing that you like a lot? You may talk of pluck; it’s an easy word, And where’er you go it is often heard; But can you tell to a jot or guess Just how much courage you now possess? You may stand to […]...
3. Sand Scribblings THE WIND stops, the wind begins. The wind says stop, begin. A sea shovel scrapes the sand floor. The shovel changes, the floor changes. The sandpipers, maybe they know. Maybe a three-pointed foot can tell. Maybe the fog moon they fly to, guesses. The sandpipers cheep “Here” and get away. Five of them fly and […]...
4. THE STORK'S VOCATION THE stork who worms and frogs devours That in our ponds reside, Why should he dwell on high church-towers, With which he’s not allied? Incessantly he chatters there, And gives our ears no rest; But neither old nor young can dare To drive him from his nest. I humbly ask it, how can he Give […]...
5. Two Songs Of A Fool I A speckled cat and a tame hare Eat at my hearthstone And sleep there; And both look up to me alone For learning and defence As I look up to Providence. I start out of my sleep to think Some day I may forget Their food and drink; Or, the house door left unshut, […]...
6. Cruelty and Love What large, dark hands are those at the window Lifted, grasping in the yellow light Which makes its way through the curtain web At my heart to-night? Ah, only the leaves! So leave me at rest, In the west I see a redness come Over the evening’s burning breast For now the pain is numb. […]...
7. The Dawn of Darkness COME earth’s little children pit-pat from their burrows on the hill; Hangs within the gloom its weary head the shining daffodil. In the valley underneath us through the fragrance flit along Over fields and over hedgerows little quivering drops of song. All adown the pale blue mantle of the mountains far away Stream the tresses […]...
8. The Trout Naughty little speckled trout, Can’t I coax you to come out? Is it such great fun to play In the water every day? Do you pull the Naiads’ hair Hiding in the lilies there? Do you hunt for fishes’ eggs, Or watch tadpoles grow their legs? Do the little trouts have school In some deep […]...
9. Punch Song Four elements, joined in Harmonious strife, Shadow the world forth, And typify life. Into the goblet The lemon’s juice pour; Acid is ever Life’s innermost core. Now, with the sugar’s All-softening juice, The strength of the acid So burning reduce. The bright sparkling water Now pour in the bowl; Water all-gently Encircles the whole. Let […]...
10. 172. Note to Mr. Renton of Lamerton YOUR billet, Sir, I grant receipt; Wi’ you I’ll canter ony gate, Tho’ ’twere a trip to yon blue warl’, Whare birkies march on burning marl: Then, Sir, God willing, I’ll attend ye, And to his goodness I commend ye. R. BURNS...
11. Melancholy HENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly! There ‘s naught in this life sweet, If men were wise to see’t, But only melancholy O sweetest melancholy! Welcome, folded arms and fixed eyes, A sight that piercing mortifies, A look that ‘s fasten’d to the ground, A […]...
12. A Visitor in Marl A Visitor in Marl Who influences Flowers Till they are orderly as Busts And Elegant as Glass Who visits in the Night And just before the Sun Concludes his glistening interview Caresses and is gone But whom his fingers touched And where his feet have run And whatsoever Mouth be kissed Is as it had […]...
13. An Immorality Sing we for love and idleness, Naught else is worth the having. Though I have been in many a land, There is naught else in living. And I would rather have my sweet, Though rose-leaves die of grieving, Than do high deeds in Hungary To pass all men’s believing....
14. Snap-Dragon She bade me follow to her garden where The mellow sunlight stood as in a cup Between the old grey walls; I did not dare To raise my face, I did not dare look up Lest her bright eyes like sparrows should fly in My windows of discovery and shrill ‘Sin!’ So with a downcast […]...
15. Celia Beeding, To the Surgeon Fond man, that canst believe her blood Will from those purple channels flow; Or that the pure untainted flood Can any foul distemper know; Or that thy weak steel can incise The crystal case wherein it lies: Know, her quick blood, proud of his seat, Runs dancing through her azure veins; Whose harmony no cold […]...
16. A Channel Passage The damned ship lurched and slithered. Quiet and quick My cold gorge rose; the long sea rolled; I knew I must think hard of something, or be sick; And could think hard of only one thing YOU! You, you alone could hold my fancy ever! And with you memories come, sharp pain, and dole. Now […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. Dirge of the Three Queens URNS and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms and gums and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill’d with tears, And clamours through the wild air flying! Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-eyed Pleasure’s foes! We convent naught else but woes....
19. SCARECROW CRIMES In Hayfield I imagine Not just the nuts and bolts of split cockpits But a Spitfire’s sunk fuselage Has smoked out its entirety unseen From one century to the next. At Edale Cross, Birch Vale or Kinder, In rock, field or peat bog More than machinery beds down and is lost, It’s true But here […]...
20. Madonna Mia A lily-girl, not made for this world’s pain, With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears, And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears Like bluest water seen through mists of rain: Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain, Red underlip drawn in for fear of love, And white throat, whiter than […]...
21. Winter A wrinkled crabbed man they picture thee, Old Winter, with a rugged beard as grey As the long moss upon the apple-tree; Blue-lipt, an icedrop at thy sharp blue nose, Close muffled up, and on thy dreary way Plodding alone through sleet and drifting snows. They should have drawn thee by the high-heapt hearth, Old […]...
22. Whirls NEITHER rose leaves gathered in a jar-respectably in Boston-these-nor drops of Christ blood for a chalice-decently in Philadelphia or Baltimore. Cinders-these-hissing in a marl and lime of Chicago-also these-the howling of northwest winds across North and South Dakota-or the spatter of winter spray on sea rocks of Kamchatka....
23. Bank Robber I much admire, I must admit, The man who robs a Bank; It takes a lot of guts and grit, For lack of which I thank The gods: a chap ‘twould make of me You wouldn’t ask to tea. I do not mean a burglar cove Who climbs into a house, From room to room […]...
24. Nightfall In The City Of Hyderabad SEE how the speckled sky burns like a pigeon’s throat, Jewelled with embers of opal and peridote. See the white river that flashes and scintillates, Curved like a tusk from the mouth of the city-gates. Hark, from the minaret, how the muezzin’s call Floats like a battle-flag over the city wall. From trellised balconies, languid […]...
25. Winter Song The browns, the olives, and the yellows died, And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide, And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed, Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed. From off your face, into the winds of winter, The sun-brown and […]...
26. Dark Prophecy: I Sing Of Shine And, yeah brothers While white America sings about the unsinkable molly brown (who was hustling the titanic When it went down) I sing to thee of Shine The stoker who was hip enough to flee the fucking ship And let the white folks drown With screams on their lips (jumped his black ass into the […]...
27. 422. Epigrams against the Earl of Galloway WHAT dost thou in that mansion fair? Flit, Galloway, and find Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, The picture of thy mind. – No Stewart art thou, Galloway, The Stewarts ‘ll were brave; Besides, the Stewarts were but fools, Not one of them a knave. Bright ran thy line, O Galloway, Thro’ many a far-fam’d sire! […]...
28. The Bight [On my birthday] At low tide like this how sheer the water is. White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare And the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches. Absorbing, rather than being absorbed, The water in the bight doesn’t wet anything, The color of the gas flame turned as low as possible. […]...
29. 235. Song-The Fall of the Leaf THE LAZY mist hangs from the brow of the hill, Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill; How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear! As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year. The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown, And all the gay foppery of summer is flown: Apart let me wander, apart […]...
30. Sea Song I will think no more of the sea! Of the big green waves And the hollowed Shore, Of the brown rock caves No more, no more Of the swell and the weed And the bubbling foam. Memory dwells in my far away home, She has nothing To do with me. She is old and bent […]...
31. The Veiled Statue At Sais A youth, impelled by a burning thirst for knowledge To roam to Sais, in fair Egypt’s land, The priesthood’s secret learning to explore, Had passed through many a grade with eager haste, And still was hurrying on with fond impatience. Scarce could the Hierophant impose a rein Upon his headlong efforts. “What avails A part […]...
32. Without Looking Either at my friend’s daughter’s Sixteen-year-old body dumped On the morgue slab, T-shirt Stuck fast to one ripped Breast I identified quick, and then Got out of there Or at the old gentleman With tubes in the living room, spittle Stained in his wispy Beard, out of The corner of my eye I hardly Notice […]...
33. In A Breton Cemetery They sleep well here, These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days In fierce Atlantic ways; And found not there, Beneath the long curled wave, So quiet a grave. And they sleep well, These peasant-folk, who told their lives away, From day to market-day, As one should tell, With patient industry, Some sad old rosary. And […]...
34. The Glory The glory of the beauty of the morning, – The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew; The blackbird that has found it, and the dove That tempts me on to something sweeter than love; White clouds ranged even and fair as new-mown hay; The heat, the stir, the sublime vacancy Of sky and meadow and […]...
35. A Patch of Old Snow There’s a patch of old snow in a corner That I should have guessed Was a blow-away paper the rain Had brought to rest. It is speckled with grime as if Small print overspread it, The news of a day I’ve forgotten If I ever read it....
36. Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; II: On Malicious Cruelty To Harmless Creatures The cruelty of P. L. Brown- (He had ten toes as good as mine) Was known to every one in town, And, if he never harmed a noun, He loved to make verbs shriek and whine. The “To be” family’s just complaints- (Brown had ten toes as good as mine) Made Brown cast off the […]...
37. A Sort Of A Song Let the snake wait under His weed And the writing Be of words, slow and quick, sharp To strike, quiet to wait, Sleepless. -through metaphor to reconcile The people and the stones. Compose. (No ideas But in things) Invent! Saxifrage is my flower that splits The rocks....
38. Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence […]...
39. To A Friend Concerning Several Ladies You know there is not much That I desire, a few chrysanthemums Half lying on the grass, yellow And brown and white, the Talk of a few people, the trees, An expanse of dried leaves perhaps With ditches among them. But there comes Between me and these things A letter Or even a look-well placed, […]...
40. Arise Why sit ye idly dreaming all the day, While the golden, precious hours flit away? See you not the day is waning, waning fast? That the morn’s already vanished in the past? When the glowing noon approaches, we will rest Who have worked through all the morning; but at best, If you work with zeal […]...