Atmosphere

Related poetry:

1. Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song I Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam Of golden sunlight shines On the rippling waves, that brightly flow Beneath the flowering vines. Awake! Awake! for the low, sweet chant Of the wild-birds’ morning hymn Comes floating by on the fragrant air, Through the forest cool and dim; Then spread each wing, And work, and sing, Through […]...
2. The Wind, One Brilliant Day The wind, one brilliant day, called To my soul with an odor of jasmine. “In return for the odor of my jasmine, I’d like all the odor of your roses.” “I have no roses; all the flowers In my garden are dead.” “Well then, I’ll take the withered petals And the yellow leaves and the […]...
3. The Candle Indoors Some candle clear burns somewhere I come by. I muse at how its being puts blissful back With yellowy moisture mild night’s blear-all black, Or to-fro tender trambeams truckle at the eye. By that window what task what fingers ply, I plod wondering, a-wanting, just for lack Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or Jack […]...
4. The Night Cometh Work! for the night is coming; Work! through the morning hours; Work! while the dew is sparkling; Work! ‘mid the springing flowers; Work! while the day grows brighter, Under the glowing sun; Work! for the night is coming, Night, when man’s work is done. Work! for the night is coming; Work! through the sunny noon; […]...
5. Lines Inscribed on The Wall of a Dungeon in The Southern P of I Though not a breath can enter here, I know the wind blows fresh and free; I know the sun is shining clear, Though not a gleam can visit me. They thought while I in darkness lay, ‘Twere pity that I should not know How all the earth is smiling gay; How fresh the vernal breezes […]...
6. The Dictators An odor has remained among the sugarcane: A mixture of blood and body, a penetrating Petal that brings nausea. Between the coconut palms the graves are full Of ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles. The delicate dictator is talking With top hats, gold braid, and collars. The tiny palace gleams like a watch And the rapid […]...
7. On A Dead Violet The odor from the flower is gone Which like thy kisses breathed on me; The color from the flower is flown Which glowed of thee and only thee! A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form, It lies on my abandoned breast; And mocks the heart, which yet is warm, With cold and silent rest. I weep my […]...
8. In Excelsis It is half winter, half spring, And Barbara and I are standing Confronting the ocean. Its mouth is open very wide, And it has dug up its green, Throwing it, throwing it at the shore. You say it is angry. I say it is like a kicked Madonna. Its womb collapses, drunk with its fever. […]...
9. Holding On Green fingers Holding the hillside, Mustard whipping in The sea winds, one blood-bright Poppy breathing in And out. The odor Of Spanish earth comes Up to me, yellowed With my own piss. 40 miles from Málaga Half the world away From home, I am home and Nowhere, a man who envies Grass. Two oxen browse […]...
10. The Color of the Grave is Green The Color of the Grave is Green The Outer Grave I mean You would not know it from the Field Except it own a Stone To help the fond to find it Too infinite asleep To stop and tell them where it is But just a Daisy deep The Color of the Grave is white […]...
11. Oh Who Is That Young Sinner Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists? And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists? And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air? Oh they’re taking him to prison for the color of his hair. ‘Tis a shame to human nature, such a head […]...
12. They Were Welcome To Their Belief Grief may have thought it was grief. Care may have thought it was care. They were welcome to their belief, The overimportant pair. No, it took all the snows that clung To the low roof over his bed, Beginning when he was young, To induce the one snow on his head. But whenever the roof […]...
13. Blow, Bugle, Blow THE splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O […]...
14. MacGregor's Gathering The moon’s on the lake, and the mist’s on the brae, And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day; Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach! Gather, gather, gather, &c. Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew, Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo! Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach! […]...
15. Prairie-Grass Dividing, The THE prairie-grass dividing-its special odor breathing, I demand of it the spiritual corresponding, Demand the most copious and close companionship of men, Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings, Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious, Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with freedom and command-leading, not following, Those […]...
16. The Dying need but little, Dear The Dying need but little, Dear, A Glass of Water’s all, A Flower’s unobtrusive Face To punctuate the Wall, A Fan, perhaps, a Friend’s Regret And Certainty that one No color in the Rainbow Perceive, when you are gone....
17. Oh! Arranmore, Loved Arranmore Oh! Arranmore, loved Arranmore, How oft I dream of thee, And of those days when, by thy shore, I wander’d young and free. Full many a path I’ve tried, since then, Through pleasure’s flowery maze, But ne’er could find the bliss again I felt in those sweet days. How blithe upon thy breezy cliffs At […]...
18. A Poem About George Doty In The Death House Lured by the wall, and drawn To stare below the roof, Where pigeons nest aloof From prowling cats and men, I count the sash and bar Secured to granite stone, And note the daylight gone, Supper and silence near. Close to the wall inside, Immured, empty of love, A man I have wondered of Lies […]...
19. Two Look at Two Love and forgetting might have carried them A little further up the mountain side With night so near, but not much further up. They must have halted soon in any case With thoughts of a path back, how rough it was With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness; When they were halted by a […]...
20. The Color of a Queen, is this The Color of a Queen, is this The Color of a Sun At setting this and Amber Beryl and this, at Noon And when at night Auroran widths Fling suddenly on men ‘Tis this and Witchcraft nature keeps A Rank for Iodine...
21. Sonnet CXXIV If my dear love were but the child of state, It might for Fortune’s bastard be unfather’d’ As subject to Time’s love or to Time’s hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather’d. No, it was builded far from accident; It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls Under the blow of thralled discontent, […]...
22. The Fires Men make them fires on the hearth Each under his roof-tree, And the Four Winds that rule the earth They blow the smoke to me. Across the high hills and the sea And all the changeful skies, The Four Winds blow the smoke to me Till the tears are in my eyes. Until the tears […]...
23. The Tent Only the stars endome the lonely camp, Only the desert leagues encompass it; Waterless wastes, a wilderness of wit, Embattled Cold, Imagination’s Cramp. Now were the Desolation fain to stamp The congealed Spirit of man into the pit, Save that, unquenchable because unlit, The Love of God burns steady, like a Lamp. It burns! beyond […]...
24. This Morning Enter without knocking, hard-working ant. I’m just sitting here mulling over What to do this dark, overcast day? It was a night of the radio turned down low, Fitful sleep, vague, troubling dreams. I woke up lovesick and confused. I thought I heard Estella in the garden singing And some bird answering her, But it […]...
25. Security Young man, gather gold and gear, They will wear you well; You can thumb your nose at fear, Wish the horde in hell. With the haughty you can be Insolent and bold: Young man, if you would be free Gather gear and gold. Mellow man o middle age, Buy a little farm; Then let revolution […]...
26. Firelight and Nightfall The darkness steals the forms of all the queens, But oh, the palms of his two black hands are red, Inflamed with binding up the sheaves of dead Hours that were once all glory and all queens. And I remember all the sunny hours Of queens in hyacinth and skies of gold, And morning singing […]...
27. My Ships If all the ships I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me, From sunny lands, and lands of cold, Ah well! the harbor could not hold So many sails as there would be If all my ships came in from sea. If half my ships came home from sea, And brought their precious […]...
28. Time And Life I. Time, thy name is sorrow, says the stricken Heart of life, laid waste with wasting flame Ere the change of things and thoughts requicken, Time, thy name. Girt about with shadow, blind and lame, Ghosts of things that smite and thoughts that sicken Hunt and hound thee down to death and shame. Eyes of […]...
29. Brave Coward Elisabeth imagines I’ve A yellow streak She deems I have no dash and drive, Jest dogoned weak. ‘A man should be a man,’ says Liz ‘Trade blow for blow.’ Poor kid! What my position is She jest don’t know. She jest don’t know my old man killed, Yea, slew and slew. As steamy blood he […]...
30. The Cocoon As far as I can see this autumn haze That spreading in the evening air both way, Makes the new moon look anything but new, And pours the elm-tree meadow full of blue, Is all the smoke from one poor house alone With but one chimney it can call its own; So close it will […]...
31. Ordinary Miracles Spring, rainbows, Ordinary miracles About which Nothing new can be said. The stars on a clear night Of a New England winter; The soft air of the islands Along the old Spanish Main; Pirate gold shining In the palm; The odor of roses To the lover’s nose. . . There is no more poetry To […]...
32. The Blue Mountains Above the ashes straight and tall, Through ferns with moisture dripping, I climb beneath the sandstone wall, My feet on mosses slipping. Like ramparts round the valley’s edge The tinted cliffs are standing, With many a broken wall and ledge, And many a rocky landing. And round about their rugged feet Deep ferny dells are […]...
33. Birches When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy’s been swinging them. But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon […]...
34. A Song of Pitcairn's Island Come, take our boy, and we will go Before our cabin door; The winds shall bring us, as they blow, The murmurs of the shore; And we will kiss his young blue eyes, And I will sing him, as he lies, Songs that were made of yore: I’ll sing, in his delighted ear, The island […]...
35. Come O'er the Sea Come o’er the sea, Maiden with me, Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows; Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same, where’er it goes. Let fate frown on, so we love and part not; ‘Tis life where thou art, ’tis death were thou are not. Then come o’er the sea, Maiden with me, […]...
36. I Speak Not I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name; There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame; But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart. Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace, Were […]...
37. Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina GEORGE AUGUSTUS CLOUGH A NATIVE OF LIVERPOOL, DIED SUDDENLY OF “STRANGER’S FEVER” NOV’R 5th 1843 AGED 22 He died of “Stranger’s Fever” when his youth Had scarcely melted into manhood, so The chiselled legend runs; a brother’s woe Laid bare for epitaph. The savage ruth Of a sunny, bright, but alien land, uncouth With cruel […]...
38. Rose Pogonias A SATURATED meadow, Sun-shaped and jewel-small, A circle scarcely wider Than the trees around were tall; Where winds were quite excluded, And the air was stifling sweet With the breath of many flowers, A temple of the hear. There we bowed us in the burning, As the sun’s right worship is, To pick where none […]...
39. 341. Song-My Bonie Bell THE SMILING Spring comes in rejoicing, And surly Winter grimly flies; Now crystal clear are the falling waters, And bonie blue are the sunny skies. Fresh o’er the mountains breaks forth the morning, The ev’ning gilds the ocean’s swell; All creatures joy in the sun’s returning, And I rejoice in my bonie Bell. The flowery […]...
40. Twenty-Pound Stone It nests in the hollow of my pelvis, I carry it with both hands, as if offering my stomach, as if it were pulling me forward. At night the sun leaks from it, it turns cold, I sleep with it beside my head, I breath for it. Sometimes I dream of hammers. I am hammering […]...