Cheer

Related poetry:

1. Don't Cheer Don’t cheer, damn you! Don’t cheer! Silence! Your bitterest tear Is fulsomely sweet to-day. . . . Down on your knees and pray. See, they sing as they go, Marching row upon row. Who will be spared to return, Sombre and starkly stern? Chaps whom we knew – s0 strange, Distant and dark with change; […]...
2. 553. Song-O lay thy loof in mine, lass Chorus-O lay thy loof in mine, lass, In mine, lass, in mine, lass; And swear on thy white hand, lass, That thou wilt be my ain. A SLAVE to Love’s unbounded sway, He aft has wrought me meikle wae; But now he is my deadly fae, Unless thou be my ain. O lay thy loof, […]...
3. Ripeness With peace and rest And wisdom sage, Ripeness is best Of every age. With hands that fold In pensive prayer, For grave-yard mold Prepare. From fighting free With fear forgot, Let ripeness be, Before the rot. With heart of cheer At eighty odd, How man grows near To God! With passion spent And life nigh […]...
4. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
5. 550. Song-A Lass wi' a Tocher AWA’ wi’ your witchcraft o’ Beauty’s alarms, The slender bit Beauty you grasp in your arms, O, gie me the lass that has acres o’ charms, O, gie me the lass wi’ the weel-stockit farms. Chorus.-Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher, Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher; Then hey, for a […]...
6. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
7. Shiela When I played my penny whistle on the braes above Lochgyle The heather bloomed about us, and we heard the peewit call; As you bent above your knitting something fey was in your smile, And fine and soft and slow the rain made silver on your shawl. Your cheeks were pink like painted cheeks, your […]...
8. Affinity YOU and I have found the secret way, None can bar our love or say us nay: All the world may stare and never know You and I are twined together so. You and I for all his vaunted width Know the giant Space is but a myth; Over miles and miles of pure deceit […]...
9. Relax Do you recall that happy bike With bundles on our backs? How near to heaven it was like To blissfully relax! In cosy tavern of good cheer To doff our heavy packs, And with a mug of foamy beer Relax. Learn to relax: to clean the mind Of fear and doubt and care, And in […]...
10. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
11. The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
12. First Sight Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro All they find, outside the fold, Is a wretched width of cold. As they wait beside the ewe, Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies Hidden round them, […]...
13. Irish Love Song Well, if the thing is over, better it is for me, The lad was ever a rover, loving and laughing free, Far too clever a lover not to be having still A lass in the town and a lass by the road and a lass by the farther hill Love on the field and love […]...
14. The Gipsy Trail The white moth to the closing bine, The bee to the opened clover, And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood Ever the wide world over. Ever the wide world over, lass, Ever the trail held true, Over the world and under the world, And back at the last to you. Out of the dark […]...
15. Carry On It’s easy to fight when everything’s right, And you’re mad with the thrill and the glory; It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near, And wallow in fields that are gory. It’s a different song when everything’s wrong, When you’re feeling infernally mortal; When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none, Buck up, little […]...
16. Warning PURE at heart we wander now: Comrade on the quest divine, Turn not from the stars your brow That your eyes may rest on mine. Pure at heart we wander now: We have hopes beyond to-day; And our quest does not allow Rest or dreams along the way. We are, in our distant hope, One […]...
17. 509. Song-Fragment-There was a Bonie Lass THERE was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass, And she lo’ed her bonie laddie dear; Till War’s loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms, Wi’ mony a sigh and tear. Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar, He still was a stranger to fear; And nocht could him quail, or […]...
18. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
19. 524. Song-The lass that made the bed to me WHEN Januar’ wind was blawing cauld, As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na where to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met, Just in the middle o’ my care, And kindly she did me invite To walk into a chamber fair. […]...
20. Eighty Not Out In the gay, gleamy morn I adore to go walking, And oh what sweet people I meet on my way! I hail them with joy for I love to be talking, Although I have nothing important to say. I cheer the old grannies whose needles are plying; I watch the wee kiddies awhoop at their […]...
21. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
22. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
23. 1. Song-Handsome Nell O ONCE I lov’d a bonie lass, Ay, and I love her still; And whilst that virtue warms my breast, I’ll love my handsome Nell. As bonie lasses I hae seen, And mony full as braw; But, for a modest gracefu’ mein, The like I never saw. A bonie lass, I will confess, Is pleasant […]...
24. My Indian Summer Here in the Autumn of my days My life is mellowed in a haze. Unpleasant sights are none to clear, Discordant sounds I hardly hear. Infirmities like buffers soft Sustain me tranquilly aloft. I’m deaf to duffers, blind to bores, Peace seems to percolate my pores. I fold my hands, keep quiet mind, In dogs […]...
25. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
26. The Three Voices The waves have a story to tell me, As I lie on the lonely beach; Chanting aloft in the pine-tops, The wind has a lesson to teach; But the stars sing an anthem of glory I cannot put into speech. The waves tell of ocean spaces, Of hearts that are wild and brave, Of populous […]...
27. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
28. Sonnet 15 XV On The Late Massacher In Piemont Avenge O lord thy slaughter’d Saints, whose bones Lie scatter’d on the Alpine mountains cold, Ev’n them who kept thy truth so pure of old When all our Fathers worship’t Stocks and Stones, Forget not: in thy book record their groanes Who were thy Sheep and in their […]...
29. Milton I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold How the voluminous billows roll and run, Upheaving and subsiding, while the sun Shines through their sheeted emerald far unrolled, And the ninth wave, slow gathering fold by fold All its loose-flowing garments into one, Plunges upon the shore, and floods the dun Pale reach of sands, and […]...
30. The Farmer's Daughter The Rector met a little lass Who led a heifer by a rope. Said he: “Why don’t you go to Mass? Do you not want to please the Pope?” The village maiden made reply, As on the rope she ceased to pull: “My father said this morning I Must take Paquerette to see the bull.” […]...
31. In the Days of the Golden Rod Across the meadow in brooding shadow I walk to drink of the autumn’s wine­ The charm of story, the artist’s glory, To-day on these silvering hills is mine; On height, in hollow, where’er I follow, By mellow hillside and searing sod, Its plumes uplifting, in light winds drifting, I see the glimmer of golden-rod. In […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. 290. Song-A Waukrife Minnie WHARE are you gaun, my bonie lass, Whare are you gaun, my hinnie? She answered me right saucilie, “An errand for my minnie.” O whare live ye, my bonie lass, O whare live ye, my hinnie? “By yon burnside, gin ye maun ken, In a wee house wi’ my minnie.” But I foor up the […]...
34. The Oldest Song “These were never your true love’s eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies, And the wide calm brows above them! This was never your true love’s speech. Why do you thrill when you hear it? You that have ridden out of its reach The width of the […]...
35. 192. Song-The Bonie Lass of Albany MY 1 heart is wae, and unco wae, To think upon the raging sea, That roars between her gardens green An’ the bonie Lass of Albany. This lovely maid’s of royal blood That ruled Albion’s kingdoms three, But oh, alas! for her bonie face, They’ve wrang’d the Lass of Albany. In the rolling tide of […]...
36. My Vineyard To me at night the stars are vocal. They say: ‘Your planet’s oh so local! A speck of dust in heaven’s ceiling; Your faith divine a foolish feeling. What odds if you are chaos hurled, Yours is a silly little world.’ For their derision, haply true, I hate the stars, as wouldn’t you? But whether […]...
37. Sacrifice THOSE delicate wanderers, The wind, the star, the cloud, Ever before mine eyes, As to an altar bowed, Light and dew-laden airs Offer in sacrifice. The offerings arise: Hazes of rainbow light, Pure crystal, blue, and gold, Through dreamland take their flight; And ‘mid the sacrifice God moveth as of old. In miracles of fire […]...
38. Her Letter “I’m taking pen in hand this night, and hard it is for me; My poor old fingers tremble so, my hand is stiff and slow, And even with my glasses on I’m troubled sore to see. . . . You’d little know your mother, boy; you’d little, little know. You mind how brisk and bright […]...
39. The Joy Of Little Things It’s good the great green earth to roam, Where sights of awe the soul inspire; But oh, it’s best, the coming home, The crackle of one’s own hearth-fire! You’ve hob-nobbed with the solemn Past; You’ve seen the pageantry of kings; Yet oh, how sweet to gain at last The peace and rest of Little Things! […]...
40. A March Snow Let the old snow be covered with the new: The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden. Let it be hidden wholly from our view By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden. When Winter dies, low at the sweet Spring’s feet Let him be mantled in a clean, white sheet. Let the old […]...