Come, Here Is Adieu To The City

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1. The Harvest Moon The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upward To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. The harvest moon has come, Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. And the earth replies all night, like a deep […]...
2. The City You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore, Find another city better than this one. Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong And my heart lies buried like something dead. How long can I let my mind moulder in this place? Wherever I turn, wherever I look, I […]...
3. Adieu, Adieu! My Native Land Adieu, adieu! my native shore Fades o’ver the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land-Good Night! A few short hours, and he will rise To give the morrow […]...
4. City Trees The trees along this city street, Save for the traffic and the trains, Would make a sound as thin and sweet As trees in country lanes. And people standing in their shade Out of a shower, undoubtedly Would hear such music as is made Upon a country tree. Oh, little leaves that are so dumb […]...
5. Messidor Put in the sickles and reap; For the morning of harvest is red, And the long large ranks of the corn Coloured and clothed as the morn Stand thick in the fields and deep For them that faint to be fed. Let all that hunger and weep Come hither, and who would have bread Put […]...
6. On the Road to Nowhere On the road to nowhere What wild oats did you sow When you left your father’s house With your cheeks aglow? Eyes so strained and eager To see what you might see? Were you thief or were you fool Or most nobly free? Were the tramp-days knightly, True sowing of wild seed? Did you dare […]...
7. Fire-Fly City Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, Bearing me far away, after a perfect day of love’s delight: Wakeful with all the sad-sweet memories of parting, I lift the narrow window-shade and look out on the night. Lonely the land unknown, and like a river flowing, Forest and field and hill […]...
8. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 06: Over the darkened city, the city of towers Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the huddled towers, Over a somnolent whisper of loves and hates, The slow wind flows, drearily streams and falls, With a mournful sound down rain-dark walls. On one side purples the lustrous dusk of the sea, […]...
9. As I Watch'd the Ploughman Ploughing AS I watch’d the ploughman ploughing, Or the sower sowing in the fields-or the harvester harvesting, I saw there too, O life and death, your analogies: (Life, life is the tillage, and Death is the harvest according.)...
10. The Adieu to Love LOVE, I renounce thy tyrant sway, I mock thy fascinating art, MINE, be the calm unruffled day, That brings no torment to the heart; The tranquil mind, the noiseless scene, Where FANCY, with enchanting mien, Shall in her right-hand lead along The graceful patroness of Song; Where HARMONY shall softly fling Her light tones o’er […]...
11. Be Not Weary Sometimes, when I am toil-worn and aweary, And tired out with working long and well, And earth is dark, and skies above are dreary, And heart and soul are all too sick to tell, These words have come to me like angel fingers Pressing the spirit’s eyelids down in sleep, ‘Oh let us not be […]...
12. City Gent On my desk, a set of labels Or a synopsis of leeks, Blanched by the sun And trailing their roots Like a watering can. Beyond and below, Diminished by distance, A taxi shivers at the lights: A shining moorhen With an orange nodule Set over the beak, Taking a passenger Under its wing. I turn […]...
13. My Cross I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it; Although I hoped that late or soon Someone would praise a bit Its purity and grace forlone, Its beauty tulip-cool… But as my poem died still-born, I felt a fool. I wrote a verse of vulgar trend Spiced with an oath or two; […]...
14. Adieu to Belshanny Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I’ll think of you, as sure as night and morn. The kindly spot, the friendly town, where every one is known, And not a face in all the place but partly seems my own; There’s not a house or window, there’s not […]...
15. The City Bushman It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent; And you curse the trams and buses and the turmoil and the push, Though you know the squalid city needn’t keep you from the bush; But we lately heard you singing of […]...
16. City That Does Not Sleep In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream, And the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the street corner The unbelievable alligator […]...
17. L'Adieu J’ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère L’automne est morte souviens-t’en Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre Odeur du temps Brin de bruyère Et souviens-toi que je t’attends...
18. Love's Last Adieu The roses of Love glad the garden of life, Though nurtur’d ‘mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, Or prunes them for ever, in Love’s last adieu! In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart, In vain do we vow for an age to be true; The chance […]...
19. The City of Perth Beautiful Ancient City of Perth, One of the fairest on the earth, With your stately mansions and scenery most fine, Which seems very beautiful in the summer time; And the beautiful silvery Tay, Rolling smoothly on its way, And glittering like silver in the sunshine – And the Railway Bridge across it is really sublime. […]...
20. Farewell and adieu 1914-18 Farewell and adieu to you, Harwich Ladies, Farewell and adieu to you, ladies ashore! For we’ve received orders to work to the eastward Where we hope in a short time to strafe ’em some more. We’ll duck and we’ll dive like little tin turtles, We’ll duck and we’ll dive underneath the North Seas, Until […]...
21. Adieu to a Soldier ADIEU, O soldier! You of the rude campaigning, (which we shared,) The rapid march, the life of the camp, The hot contention of opposing fronts-the long manoeuver, Red battles with their slaughter,-the stimulus-the strong, terrific game, Spell of all brave and manly hearts-the trains of Time through you, and like of you, all fill’d, With […]...
22. Bid Adieu to Maidenhood Bid adieu, adieu, adieu, Bid adieu to girlish days, Happy Love is come to woo Thee and woo thy girlish ways- The zone that doth become thee fair, The snood upon thy yellow hair, When thou hast heard his name upon The bugles of the cherubim Begin thou softly to unzone Thy girlish bosom unto […]...
23. The Rover's Adieu weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine. A lightsome eye, a soldier’s mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green- No more of me ye knew, My Love! No more of me ye […]...
24. Sonnet: O City, City To live between terms, to live where death Has his loud picture in the subway ride, Being amid six million souls, their breath An empty song suppressed on every side, Where the sliding auto’s catastrophe Is a gust past the curb, where numb and high The office building rises to its tyranny, Is our anguished […]...
25. Henry James in the Heart of the City We have a small sculpture of Henry James on our terrace in New York City. Nothing would surprise him. The beast in the jungle was what he saw Edith Wharton’s obfuscating older brother. . . He fled the demons Of Manhattan For fear they would devour His inner ones (the ones who wrote the books) […]...
26. Sowing IT was a perfect day For sowing; just As sweet and dry was the ground As tobacco-dust. I tasted deep the hour Between the far Owl’s chuckling first soft cry And the first star. A long stretched hour it was; Nothing undone Remained; the early seeds All safely sown. And now, hark at the rain, […]...
27. Prelude They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away, Since basely bred, Proud Poetry, I dare to say, Would scarce be read. With humble heart I thus define My rôle in rhyme: Oh may I never […]...
28. The Harvest Of The Sea The earth grows white with harvest; all day long The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves Her web of silence o’er the thankful song Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves. The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear, And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap; But ever ‘mid the gleaners’ song […]...
29. City Dead-House, The BY the City Dead-House, by the gate, As idly sauntering, wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause-for lo! an outcast form, a poor dead prostitute brought; Her corpse they deposit unclaim’d-it lies on the damp brick pavement; The divine woman, her body-I see the Body-I look on it alone, That house once full […]...
30. Block City What are you able to build with your blocks? Castles and palaces, temples and docks. Rain may keep raining, and others go roam, But I can be happy and building at home. Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea, There I’ll establish a city for me: A kirk and a mill and a […]...
31. Belated Bard The songs I made from joy of earth In wanton wandering, Are rapturous with Maytime mirth And ectasy of Spring. But all the songs I sing today Take tediously the ear: Novemberishly dark are they With mortuary fear. For half a century has gone Since first I rang a rhyme; And that is long to […]...
32. On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand has Passed On fields o’er which the reaper’s hand has pass’d Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun, My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind And of such fineness as October airs, There after harvest could I glean my life A richer harvest reaping without toil, And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will In subtler […]...
33. The City Revisited The grey gulls drift across the bay Softly and still as flakes of snow Against the thinning fog. All day I sat and watched them come and go; And now at last the sun was set, Filling the waves with colored fire Till each seemed like a jewelled spire Thrust up from some drowned city. […]...
34. Up At A Villa – Down In The City (As Distinguished by an Italian Person of Quality) I Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare, The house for me, no doubt, were a house in the city-square; Ah, such a life, such a life, as one leads at the window there! II Something to see, by Bacchus, something to hear, […]...
35. It Was Not Necessary To Study It was not necessary to study The language Of a strange country; Anyway, it would be of no help. It was not necessary to know Where Italy or England Is located; Travel was obviously Out of question. It was not necessary to live Among the wild beasts Of Noah’s ark, Which had just devoured The […]...
36. Admire their style I’m reading fellow poets’ blogs today, A sustaining source of entertainment; I admire their style without exciting comment Or resorting to an unkind eye, simple though It is to sigh about uneasy affirmation. I hope when they read me (if they ever do) They rest as easy on my lack of finished form, The hazy, […]...
37. Your Hay It Is Mow'd, And Your Corn Is Reap'd (Comus.) Your hay it is mow’d, and your corn is reap’d; Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap’d: Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come; And merrily roar out Harvest Home. (Chorus.) Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come; And merrily roar out Harvest Home. (Man.) We ha’ cheated the parson, […]...
38. Advice To An Old Man of Sixty Three About To Marry a Girle of Sixteen Now fie upon him! what is Man, Whose life at best is but a span? When to an inch it dwindles down, Ice in his bones, snow on his Crown, That he within his crazy brain, Kind thoughts of Love should entertain, That he, when Harvest comes should plow And when ’tis time to reap, […]...
39. Sonnet On Hearing The Dies Irae Sung In The Sistine Chapel Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring, Sad olive-groves, or silver-breasted dove, Teach me more clearly of Thy life and love Than terrors of red flame and thundering. The hillside vines dear memories of Thee bring: A bird at evening flying to its nest Tells me of One who had no place of […]...
40. One Perfect Rose A single flow’r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet – One perfect rose. I knew the language of the floweret; ‘My fragile leaves,’ it said, ‘his heart enclose.’ Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no […]...