Upon Julia's Unlacing Herself

Related poetry:

1. The Blossom ON a day alack the day! Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind All unseen ‘gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might […]...
2. A Song Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither doth stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me […]...
3. A Song: When June is Past, the Fading Rose Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep These flowers as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither doth stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me […]...
4. We are Transmitters As we live, we are transmitters of life. And when we fail to transmit life, life fails to flow through us. That is part of the mystery of sex, it is a flow onwards. Sexless people transmit nothing. And if, as we work, we can transmit life into our work, Life, still more life, rushes […]...
5. Ask Me No More Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me […]...
6. A Dead Rose O Rose! who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet; But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat, – Kept seven years in a drawer – thy titles shame thee. The breeze that used to blow thee Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away An odour up the lane to […]...
7. Sonnet XII: That Learned Father To the Soul That learned Father, who so firmly proves The Soul of man immortal and divine, And doth the several offices define: Anima – Gives her that name, as she the Body moves; Amor – Then is she Love, embracing charity; Animus – Moving a Will in us, it is the Mind Mens – […]...
8. Song Who hath his fancy pleased With fruits of happy sight, Let here his eyes be raised On Nature’s sweetest light; A light which doth dissever And yet unite the eyes, A light which, dying never, Is cause the looker dies. She never dies, but lasteth In life of lover’s heart; He ever dies that wasteth […]...
9. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE ‘Tis not ev’ry day that I Fitted am to prophesy: No, but when the spirit fills The fantastic pannicles, Full of fire, then I write As the Godhead doth indite. Thus enraged, my lines are hurl’d, Like the Sibyl’s, through the world: Look how next the holy fire Either slakes, or doth retire; So the […]...
10. Carnal Knowledge Having picked the final datum From the universe And fixed it in its column, Named the causes of infinity, Performed the calculus Of the imaginary i, it seems The body aches To come too, To the light, Transmit the grace of gravity, Express in its own algebra The symmetries of awe and fear, The shudder […]...
11. When Coldness Wraps This Suffering Clay When coldness wraps this suffering clay, Ah! whither strays the immortal mind? It cannot die, it cannot stay, But leaves its darken’d dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace By steps each planet’s heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space, A thing of eyes, that all survey? Eternal, boundless, undecay’d, A thought […]...
12. Sonnet XXI So is it not with me as with that Muse Stirr’d by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse Making a couplement of proud compare, With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems, With April’s first-born flowers, and all […]...
13. Sonnets vi O HOW much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The Rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The Canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the Roses, Hang on such thorns, and play […]...
14. Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven it self for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems, With April’s first-born flowers, and […]...
15. Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumèd tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and […]...
16. Sonet LIV O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play […]...
17. XXXIV (You are the daughter of the sea) You are the daughter of the sea, oregano’s first cousin. Swimmer, your body is pure as the water; Cook, your blood is quick as the soil. Everything you do is full of flowers, rich with the earth. Your eyes go out toward the water, and the waves rise; Your hands go out to the earth […]...
18. A Gift See! I give myself to you, Beloved! My words are little jars For you to take and put upon a shelf. Their shapes are quaint and beautiful, And they have many pleasant colours and lustres To recommend them. Also the scent from them fills the room With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses. When I […]...
19. Air And Angels Twice or thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name, So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us oft, and worship’d be; Still when, to where thou wert, I came, Some lovely glorious nothing I did see. But since my soul, whose child love is, Takes limbs […]...
20. Bards of Passion and of Mirth, written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher's Tragi-Comedy 'The Fair Maid of the Inn&#039 BARDS of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Have ye souls in heaven too, Doubled-lived in regions new? Yes, and those of heaven commune With the spheres of sun and moon; With the noise of fountains wondrous, And the parle of voices thund’rous; With the whisper of heaven’s trees And […]...
21. Song To Celia – II Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I’ll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove’s nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent […]...
22. My Father’s Hats Sunday mornings I would reach High into his dark closet while standing on a chair and tiptoeing reach Higher, touching, sometimes fumbling the soft crowns and imagine I was in a forest, wind hymning through pines, where the musky scent Of rain clinging to damp earth was his scent I loved, lingering on Bands, leather, […]...
23. Questions and a Prayer For a New Born Baby So, here you are once more – in a brand new perfect body; An old soul with a brand new life to explore. And my mind is filled with so many things I want to ask you, So many questions that I’ve forgotten the answers to. I don’t want to ask you about your future, […]...
24. 438. Impromptu on Mrs. Riddell's Birthday OLD Winter, with his frosty beard, Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred: “What have I done of all the year, To bear this hated doom severe? My cheerless suns no pleasure know; Night’s horrid car drags, dreary slow; My dismal months no joys are crowning, But spleeny English hanging, drowning. “Now Jove, for once […]...
25. Robert Burns Immortal Robert Burns of Ayr, There’s but few poets can with you compare; Some of your poems and songs are very fine: To “Mary in Heaven” is most sublime; And then again in your “Cottar’s Saturday Night,” Your genius there does shine most bright, As pure as the dewdrops of the night. Your “Tam O’Shanter” […]...
26. The Song of Fionnuala Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water, Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose, While, murmuring mournfully, Lir’s lonely daughter Tell’s to the night-star her tale of woes. When shall the swan, her death-note singing, Sleep, with wings in darkness furl’d? When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, Call my spirit from […]...
27. How In All Wonder How in all wonder Columbus got over, That is a marvel to me, I protest, Cabot, and Raleigh too, that well-read rover, Frobisher, Dampier, Drake and the rest. Bad enough all the same, For them that after came, But, in great Heaven’s name, How he should ever think That on the other brink Of this […]...
28. Hymn to Pan SING his praises that doth keep Our flocks from harm. Pan, the father of our sheep; And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round, Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground Fills the music with her sound. Pan, O great god Pan, to thee Thus do we sing! Thou who keep’st us chaste and free […]...
29. The Word There are so many things I have forgot, That once were much to me, or that were not, All lost, as is a childless woman’s child And its child’s children, in the undefiled Abyss of what can never be again. I have forgot, too, names of the mighty men That fought and lost or won […]...
30. MATINS, OR MORNING PRAYER When with the virgin morning thou dost rise, Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice; First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing. Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense. Thy golden censers fill’d with odours sweet Shall make […]...
31. In Three Days I. So, I shall see her in three days And just one night, but nights are short, Then two long hours, and that is morn. See how I come, unchanged, unworn! Feel, where my life broke off from thine, How fresh the splinters keep and fine, – Only a touch and we combine! II. Too […]...
32. Sonnet LV SO oft as I her beauty doe behold, And therewith doe her cruelty compare: I maruaile of what substance was the mould The which her made attonce so cruell faire. Not earth; for her high thoghts more heauenly are, Not water; for her loue doth burne like fyre: Not ayre; for she is not so […]...
33. Montjuich “Hill of Jews,” says one, Named for a cemetery Long gone.”Hill of Jove,” Says another, and maybe Jove stalked here Once or rests now Where so many lie Who felt God swell The earth and burn Along the edges Of their breath. Almost seventy years Since a troop of cavalry Jingled up the silent road, […]...
34. First EPIGRAM. (Upon being Contented with a Little) WE deem them moderate, but Enough implore, What barely will suffice, and ask no more: Who say, (O Jove) a competency give, Neither in Luxury, or Want we’d live. But what is that, which these Enough do call? If both the Indies unto some should fall, Such Wealth would yet Enough but onely be, And […]...
35. Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air. So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater being wooed of time, For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, […]...
36. Sonnet LXX That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air. So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater, being woo’d of time; For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, […]...
37. Sonnet VI: Some Lovers Speak Some lovers speak when they their Muses entertain, Of hopes begot by fear, of wot not what desires: Of force of heav’nly beams, infusing hellish pain: Of living deaths, dear wounds, fair storms, and freezing fires. Some one his song in Jove, and Jove’s strange tales attires, Broidered with bulls and swans, powdered with golden […]...
38. Song Of Proserpine Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom Gods and men and beasts have birth, Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine. If with mists of evening dew Thou dost nourish these young flowers Till they grow in scent and hue Fairest children of […]...
39. A Child's Laughter ALL the bells of heaven may ring, All the birds of heaven may sing, All the wells on earth may spring, All the winds on earth may bring All sweet sounds together – Sweeter far than all things heard, Hand of harper, tone of bird, Sound of woods at sundawn stirred, Welling water’s winsome word, […]...
40. Fate That you are fair or wise is vain, Or strong, or rich, or generous; You must have also the untaught strain That sheds beauty on the rose. There is a melody born of melody, Which melts the world into a sea. Toil could never compass it, Art its height could never hit, It came never […]...