Hyla Brook

Related poetry:

1. The brook I looked in the brook and saw a face – Heigh-ho, but a child was I! There were rushes and willows in that place, And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by; And the brook it ran its own sweet way, As a child doth run in heedless play, And as it […]...
2. Have you got a Brook in your little heart Have you got a Brook in your little heart, Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drink, And shadows tremble so And nobody knows, so still it flows, That any brook is there, And yet your little draught of life Is daily drunken there Why, look out for the little brook in […]...
3. The Fir-Tree and the Brook The Fir-Tree looked on stars, but loved the Brook! “O silver-voiced! if thou wouldst wait, My love can bravely woo.” All smiles forsook The brook’s white face. “Too late! Too late! I go to wed the sea. I know not if my love would curse or bless thee. I may not, dare not, tarry to […]...
4. A Brook in the City The firm house lingers, though averse to square With the new city street it has to wear A number in. But what about the brook That held the house as in an elbow-crook? I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength And impulse, having dipped a finger length And made it leap my […]...
5. Because my Brook is fluent Because my Brook is fluent I know ’tis dry Because my Brook is silent It is the Sea And startled at its rising I try to flee To where the Strong assure me Is “no more Sea”...
6. The Sea said "Come" to the Brook The Sea said “Come” to the Brook The Brook said “Let me grow” The Sea said “Then you will be a Sea I want a Brook Come now”! The Sea said “Go” to the Sea The Sea said “I am he You cherished” “Learned Waters Wisdom is stale to Me”...
7. In Fountain Court The fountain murmuring of sleep, A drowsy tune; The flickering green of leaves that keep The light of June; Peace, through a slumbering afternoon, The peace of June. A waiting ghost, in the blue sky, The white curved moon; June, hushed and breathless, waits, and I Wait too, with June; Come, through the lingering afternoon, […]...
8. The Youth By The Brook Beside the brook the boy reclined And wove his flowery wreath, And to the waves the wreath consigned The waves that danced beneath. “So fleet mine hours,” he sighed, “away Like waves that restless flow: And so my flowers of youth decay Like those that float below.” “Ask not why I, alone on earth, Am […]...
9. Yad Mordechai Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here Still look out the windows like sick children Who are not allowed outside to play. And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted For the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron Rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life […]...
10. Leaf Sermon I have been spiritually poisoned By the unclean, in ignorance Blessed their springs. In consequence I withered And drifted down From green crown to brown humus, Thinned to a fishbone pattern Of cellulose threads. I washed into a stream Past stones squirming With black question marks Of dragonfly larvae, Slid through reeds Into eddying pools […]...
11. Roads I know a country laced with roads, They join the hills and they span the brooks, They weave like a shuttle between broad fields, And slide discreetly through hidden nooks. They are canopied like a Persian dome And carpeted with orient dyes. They are myriad-voiced, and musical, And scented with happiest memories. O Winding roads […]...
12. The Little Hill Oh, here the air is sweet and still, And soft’s the grass to lie on; And far away’s the little hill They took for Christ to die on. And there’s a hill across the brook, And down the brook’s another; But, oh, the little hill they took,- I think I am its mother! The moon […]...
13. October's Bright Blue Weather O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather; When loud the bumblebee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And goldenrod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant; When gentians roll their fingers tight To save them for the morning, […]...
14. What the Bee Is To the Floweret What the bee is to the floweret, When he looks for honey-dew, Through the leaves that close embower it, That, my love, I’ll be to you. She. What the bank, with verdure glowing, Is to waves that wander near, Whispering kisses, while they’re going, That I’ll be to you, my dear. She. But they say, […]...
15. Try To Remember Some Details Try to remember some details. Remember the clothing Of the one you love So that on the day of loss you’ll be able to say: last seen Wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat. Try to remember some details. For they have no face And their soul is hidden and their crying Is the same as […]...
16. Crazy Jane And Jack The Journeyman I know, although when looks meet I tremble to the bone, The more I leave the door unlatched The sooner love is gone, For love is but a skein unwound Between the dark and dawn. A lonely ghost the ghost is That to God shall come; I – love’s skein upon the ground, My body […]...
17. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
18. Telling the Bees Here is the place; right over the hill Runs the path I took; You can see the gap in the old wall still, And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. There is the house, with the gate red-barred, And the poplars tall; And the barn’s brown length, and the cattle-yard, And the white horns tossing […]...
19. Going for Water The well was dry beside the door, And so we went with pail and can Across the fields behind the house To seek the brook if still it ran; Not loth to have excuse to go, Because the autumn eve was fair (Though chill), because the fields were ours, And by the brook our woods […]...
20. A Curse Against Elegies Oh, love, why do we argue like this? I am tired of all your pious talk. Also, I am tired of all the dead. They refuse to listen, So leave them alone. Take your foot out of the graveyard, They are busy being dead. Everyone was always to blame: The last empty fifth of booze, […]...
21. A Scrap of Paper “Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?” Question Of the German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 5, 1914. A mocking question! Britain’s answer came Swift as the light and searching as the flame. “Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight Till our last breath, and God defend the […]...
22. Lines WHEN the lamp is shatter’d, The light in the dust lies dead; When the cloud is scatter’d, The rainbow’s glory is shed; When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remember’d not When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart’s […]...
23. The Brook I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorpes, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip’s farm I flow To join […]...
24. Song: Eternity of Love Protested How ill doth he deserve a lover’s name, Whose pale weak flame Cannot retain His heat, in spite of absence or disdain; But doth at once, like paper set on fire, Burn and expire; True love can never change his seat, Nor did her ever love, that could retreat. That noble flame which my breast […]...
25. Villeggiature My window, framed in pear-tree bloom, White-curtained shone, and softly lighted: So, by the pear-tree, to my room Your ghost last night climbed uninvited. Your solid self, long leagues away, Deep in dull books, had hardly missed me; And yet you found this Romeo’s way, And through the blossom climbed and kissed me. I watched […]...
26. Of Death I try to think like this Of Death I try to think like this The Well in which they lay us Is but the Likeness of the Brook That menaced not to slay us, But to invite by that Dismay Which is the Zest of sweetness To the same Flower Hesperian, Decoying but to greet us I do remember when a […]...
27. Siren Song This is the one song everyone Would like to learn: the song That is irresistible: The song that forces men To leap overboard in squadrons Even though they see the beached skulls The song nobody knows Because anyone who has heard it Is dead, and the others can’t remember. Shall I tell you the secret […]...
28. The Geranium When I put her out, once, by the garbage pail, She looked so limp and bedraggled, So foolish and trusting, like a sick poodle, Or a wizened aster in late September, I brought her back in again For a new routine Vitamins, water, and whatever Sustenance seemed sensible At the time: she’d lived So long […]...
29. Adlestrop Yes, I remember Adlestrop The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left and no one came On the bare platform. What I saw Was Adlestrop only the name And willows, willow-herb, and grass, And meadowsweet, and […]...
30. Roses And Rue (To L. L.) Could we dig up this long-buried treasure, Were it worth the pleasure, We never could learn love’s song, We are parted too long. Could the passionate past that is fled Call back its dead, Could we live it all over again, Were it worth the pain! I remember we used to meet […]...
31. I don't remember the word I wished to say I don’t remember the word I wished to say. The blind swallow returns to the hall of shadow, On shorn wings, with the translucent ones to play. The song of night is sung without memory, though. No birds. No blossoms on the dried flowers. The manes of night’s horses are translucent. An empty boat drifts […]...
32. Another Way Of Love I. June was not over Though past the fall, And the best of her roses Had yet to blow, When a man I know (But shall not discover, Since ears are dull, And time discloses) Turned him and said with a man’s true air, Half sighing a smile in a yawn, as ’twere, – ”If […]...
33. Young A thousand doors ago When I was a lonely kid In a big house with four Garages and it was summer As long as I could remember, I lay on the lawn at night, Clover wrinkling over me, The wise stars bedding over me, My mother’s window a funnel Of yellow heat running out, My […]...
34. My Hero Bares His Nerves My hero bares his nerves along my wrist That rules from wrist to shoulder, Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost, Leans on my mortal ruler, The proud spine spurning turn and twist. And these poor nerves so wired to the skull Ache on the lovelorn paper I hug to love with my unruly […]...
35. In Hardwood Groves The same leaves over and over again! They fall from giving shade above To make one texture of faded brown And fit the earth like a leather glove. Before the leaves can mount again To fill the trees with another shade, They must go down past things coming up. They must go down into the […]...
36. The Term A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was Rolling with the Wind slowly over And over in The street as A car drove down Upon it and Crushed it to The ground. Unlike A man it rose Again rolling With the wind over And over to be […]...
37. Dave Lilly There’s a brook on the side of Greylock that used To be full of trout, But there’s nothing there now but minnows; they say it is all fished Out. I fished there many a Summer day some twenty years ago, And I never quit without getting a mess of a dozen or so. There was […]...
38. Go Where Glory Waits Thee Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me. When the praise thou meetest To thine ear is sweetest, Oh! then remember me. Other arms may press thee, Dearer friends caress thee, All the joys that bless thee, Sweeter far may be; But when friends are nearest, And when joys […]...
39. Ephemera ‘Your eyes that once were never weary of mine Are bowed in sotrow under pendulous lids, Because our love is waning.’ And then She: ‘Although our love is waning, let us stand By the lone border of the lake once more, Together in that hour of gentleness When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep. […]...
40. Sonnet 28 – My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night. This said,-he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch […]...