Picture-Books in Winter

Related poetry:

1. The Land of Story-Books At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back. There, in the […]...
2. My Hundred Books A thousand books my library Contains; And all are primed, it seems to me With brains. Mine are so few I scratch in thought My head; For just a hundred of the lot I’ve read. A hundred books, but of the best, I can With wisdom savour and digest And scan. Yet when afar from […]...
3. Witchcraft By A Picture I fix mine eye on thine, and there Pity my picture burning in thine eye; My picture drowned in a transparent tear, When I look lower I espy. Hadst thou the wicked skill By pictures made and mard, to kill, How many ways mightst thou perform thy will? But now I have drunk thy sweet […]...
4. And Yet The Books And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings, That appeared once, still wet As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn, And, touched, coddled, began to live In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up, Tribes on the march, planets in motion. “We are, ” they said, even as […]...
5. Picture Puzzle Piece One picture puzzle piece Lyin’ on the sidewalk, One picture puzzle piece Soakin’ in the rain. It might be a button of blue On the coat of the woman Who lived in a shoe. It might be a magical bean, Or a fold in the red Velvet robe of a queen. It might be the […]...
6. Winter Stores WE take from life one little share, And say that this shall be A space, redeemed from toil and care, From tears and sadness free. And, haply, Death unstrings his bow And Sorrow stands apart, And, for a little while, we know The sunshine of the heart. Existence seems a summer eve, Warm, soft, and […]...
7. Picture-Show And still they come and go: and this is all I know – That from the gloom I watch an endless picture-show, Where wild or listless faces flicker on their way, With glad or grievous hearts I’ll never understand Because Time spins so fast, and they’ve no time to stay Beyond the moment’s gesture of […]...
8. Sonnet 97: How like a winter hath my absence been How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December’s bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed was summer’s time, The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widowed wombs […]...
9. Lover's Gifts XLII: Are You a Mere Picture Are you a mere picture, and not as true as those stars, true as This dust? They throb with the pulse of things, but you are Immensely aloof in your stillness, painted form. The day was when you walked with me, your breath warm, your Limbs singing of life. My world found its speech in […]...
10. A Fountain, a Bottle, a Donkey's Ears, and Some Books Old Davis owned a solid mica mountain In Dalton that would someday make his fortune. There’d been some Boston people out to see it: And experts said that deep down in the mountain The mica sheets were big as plate-glass windows. He’d like to take me there and show it to me. “I’ll tell you […]...
11. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. My Picture I made a picture; all my heart I put in it, and all I knew Of canvas-cunning and of Art, Of tenderness and passion true. A worshipped Master came to see; Oh he was kind and gentle, too. He studied it with sympathy, And sensed what I had sought to do. Said he: “Your paint […]...
14. My Wars are laid away in Books My Wars are laid away in Books I have one Battle more A Foe whom I have never seen But oft has scanned me o’er And hesitated me between And others at my side, But chose the best Neglecting me till All the rest, have died How sweet if I am not forgot By Chums […]...
15. Song-Books of the War In fifty years, when peace outshines Remembrance of the battle lines, Adventurous lads will sigh and cast Proud looks upon the plundered past. On summer morn or winter’s night, Their hearts will kindle for the fight, Reading a snatch of soldier-song, Savage and jaunty, fierce and strong; And through the angry marching rhymes Of blind […]...
16. To see her is a Picture To see her is a Picture To hear her is a Tune To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June To know her not Affliction To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the Sun Were shining in your Hand....
17. Unto my Books so good to turn Unto my Books so good to turn Far ends of tired Days It half endears the Abstinence And Pain is missed in Praise As Flavors cheer Retarded Guests With Banquettings to be So Spices stimulate the time Till my small Library It may be Wilderness without Far feet of failing Men But Holiday excludes the […]...
18. Winter is good his Hoar Delights Winter is good his Hoar Delights Italic flavor yield To Intellects inebriate With Summer, or the World Generic as a Quarry And hearty as a Rose Invited with Asperity But welcome when he goes....
19. 220. Song-The Winter it is Past THE WINTER it is past, and the summer comes at last And the small birds, they sing on ev’ry tree; Now ev’ry thing is glad, while I am very sad, Since my true love is parted from me. The rose upon the breer, by the waters running clear, May have charms for the linnet or […]...
20. 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 […]...
21. ARCADIAN WINTER WOE is me to tell it thee, Winter winds in Arcady! Scattered is thy flock and fled From the glades where once it fed, And the snow lies drifted white In the bower of our delight, Where the beech threw gracious shade On the cheek of boy and maid: And the bitter blasts make roar […]...
22. Make me a picture of the sun Make me a picture of the sun So I can hang it in my room And make believe I’m getting warm When others call it “Day”! Draw me a Robin on a stem So I am hearing him, I’ll dream, And when the Orchards stop their tune Put my pretense away Say if it’s really […]...
23. I would not paint a picture I would not paint a picture I’d rather be the One Its bright impossibility To dwell delicious on And wonder how the fingers feel Whose rare celestial stir Evokes so sweet a Torment Such sumptuous Despair I would not talk, like Cornets I’d rather be the One Raised softly to the Ceilings And out, and […]...
24. The Winter's Spring The winter comes; I walk alone, I want no bird to sing; To those who keep their hearts their own The winter is the spring. No flowers to please-no bees to hum- The coming spring’s already come. I never want the Christmas rose To come before its time; The seasons, each as God bestows, Are […]...
25. Winter Milk THE MILK drops on your chin, Helga, Must not interfere with the cranberry red of your cheeks Nor the sky winter blue of your eyes. Let your mammy keep hands off the chin. This is a high holy spatter of white on the reds and blues. Before the bottle was taken away, Before you so […]...
26. Winter Song Rain and wind, and wind and rain. Will the Summer come again? Rain on houses, on the street, Wetting all the people’s feet, Though they run with might and main. Rain and wind, and wind and rain. Snow and sleet, and sleet and snow. Will the Winter never go? What do beggar children do With […]...
27. Woods in Winter When winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill, That overbrows the lonely vale. O’er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods, The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes. Where, twisted round the barren oak, The […]...
28. To Juan at the Winter Solstice There is one story and one story only That will prove worth your telling, Whether as learned bard or gifted child; To it all lines or lesser gauds belong That startle with their shining Such common stories as they stray into. Is it of trees you tell, their months and virtues, Or strange beasts that […]...
29. A Winter Eden A winter garden in an alder swamp, Where conies now come out to sun and romp, As near a paradise as it can be And not melt snow or start a dormant tree. It lifts existence on a plane of snow One level higher than the earth below, One level nearer heaven overhead, And last […]...
30. Elegy V: His Picture Here take my picture; though I bid farewell, Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell. ‘Tis like me now, but I dead, ’twill be more When we are shadows both than ’twas before. When weather-beaten I come back, my hand Perhaps with rude oars torn, or sunbeams tanned, My face and breast […]...
31. When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted When Earth’s last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it lie down for an aeon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew. And […]...
32. Dream Song 119: Fresh-shaven, past months & a picture in New York Fresh-shaven, past months & a picture in New York Of Beard Two, I did have Three took off. Well. . Shadow & act, shadow & act, Better get white or you’ get whacked, Or keep so-called black & raise new hell. I’ve had enough of this dying. You’ve done me a dozen goodnesses; get well. […]...
33. Mae Marsh, Motion Picture Actress I The arts are old, old as the stones From which man carved the sphinx austere. Deep are the days the old arts bring: Ten thousand years of yesteryear. II She is madonna in an art As wild and young as her sweet eyes: A frail dew flower from this hot lamp That is today’s […]...
34. I WHo All The Winter Through I WHO all the winter through Cherished other loves than you, And kept hands with hoary policy in marriage-bed and pew; Now I know the false and true, For the earnest sun looks through, And my old love comes to meet me in the dawning and the dew. Now the hedged meads renew Rustic odour, […]...
35. Sonnet 6: Then let not winter's ragged hand deface Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled. Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed. That use is not forbidden usury Which happies those that pay the willing loan; That’s for thyself to breed another thee, Or ten times happier, […]...
36. Picture Dealer There were twin artists A. and B. Who painted pictures two, And hung them in my galley For everyone to view; The one exhibited by A. The name “A Sphere” did bear, While strangely brother B’s display Was catalogued: “A Square”. Now although A. (and this is queer) Could squeeze a pretty tube, The picture […]...
37. The Winter Scene I The rutted roads are all like iron; skies Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling In the bare woods, or the hardy bitter-sweet; Drivers have put their sheepskin jackets on; And all the ponds are sealed with sheeted ice That rings with stroke of skate and hockey-stick, Or in the twilight cracks with […]...
38. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
39. Large Bad Picture Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or Some northerly harbor of Labrador, Before he became a schoolteacher A great-uncle painted a big picture. Receding for miles on either side Into a flushed, still sky Are overhanging pale blue cliffs Hundreds of feet high, Their bases fretted by little arches, The entrances to caves Running in […]...
40. Winter Remembered Two evils, monstrous either one apart, Possessed me, and were long and loath at going: A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart, And in the wood the furious winter blowing. Think not, when fire was bright upon my bricks, And past the tight boards hardly a wind could enter, I glowed like them, the […]...