Last Look

Related poetry:

1. The Jewel Stairs' Grievance The jewelled steps are already quite white with dew, It is so late that the dew soaks my gauze stockings, And I let down the crystal curtain And watch the moon through the clear autumn....
2. Moon-Lover I The Moon is like a ping-pong ball; I lean against the orchard wall, And see it soar into the void, A silky sphere of celluloid. Then fairy fire enkindles it, Like gossamer by taper lit, Until it glows above the trees As mellow as a Cheddar cheese. And up and up I watch it […]...
3. Phases of the Moon Once upon a time I heard That the flying moon was a Phoenix bird; Thus she sails through windy skies, Thus in the willow’s arms she lies; Turn to the East or turn to the West In many trees she makes her nest. When she’s but a pearly thread Look among birch leaves overhead; When […]...
4. Moon Song A child saw in the morning skies The dissipated-looking moon, And opened wide her big blue eyes, And cried: “Look, look, my lost balloon!” And clapped her rosy hands with glee: “Quick, mother! Bring it back to me.” A poet in a lilied pond Espied the moon’s reflected charms, And ravished by that beauty blonde, […]...
5. The Valley's Singing Day The sound of the closing outside door was all. You made no sound in the grass with your footfall, As far as you went from the door, which was not far; But had awakened under the morning star The first song-bird that awakened all the rest. He could have slept but a moment more at […]...
6. Spats When young I was a Socialist Despite my tender years; No blessed chance I ever missed To slam the profiteers. Yet though a fanatic I was, And cursed aristocrats, The Party chucked me out because I sported Spats. Aye, though on soap boxes I stood, And spouted in the parks, They grizzled that my foot-wear […]...
7. Elementalist Could Fate ordain a lot for me Beyond all human ills, I think that I would choose to be A shephard of the hills; With shaggy cloak and cape where skies Eternally are blue How I would stare with quiet eyes At passing you! And you would stare at static me, Beside my patient flock; […]...
8. 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 […]...
9. Night Piece Climb, claim your shelf-room, far Packed from inquisitive moon And cold contagious stars. Lean out, but look no longer, No further, than to stir Night with extended finger. Now fill the box with light, Flood full the shining block, Masonry against night. Let window, curtain, blind Soft-sieve and sift and shred The impertinence of sound. […]...
10. The Jew Moses, from whose loins I sprung, Lit by a lamp in his blood Ten immutable rules, a moon For mutable lampless men. The blonde, the bronze, the ruddy, With the same heaving blood, Keep tide to the moon of Moses. Then why do they sneer at me?...
11. Child Moon The child’s wonder At the old moon Comes back nightly. She points her finger To the far silent yellow thing Shining through the branches Filtering on the leaves a golden sand, Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!” And in her bed fading to sleep With babblings of the moon on her little mouth....
12. Birds Of A Feather Of bosom friends I’ve had but seven, Despite my years are ripe; I hope they’re now enjoying Heaven, Although they’re not the type; Nor, candidly, no more am I, Though overdue to die. For looking back I see that they Were weak and wasteful men; They loved a sultry jest alway, And women now and […]...
13. Old Sweethearts Oh Maggie, do you mind the day We went to school together, And as we stoppit by the way I rolled you in the heather? My! but you were the bonny lass And we were awfu’ late for class. Your locks are now as white as snow, And you are ripe and wrinkled, A grandmother […]...
14. CHERRY RIPE Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come, and buy: If so be you ask me where They do grow? I answer, there Where my Julia’s lips do smile; There’s the land, or cherry-isle; Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow....
15. Caesarion Partly to verify an era, Partly also to pass the time, Last night I picked up a collection Of Ptolemaic epigrams to read. The plentiful praises and flatteries For everyone are similar. They are all brilliant, Glorious, mighty, beneficent; Each of their enterprises the wisest. If you talk of the women of that breed, they […]...
16. Choose your obsessions Choose your obsessions For they are unworthy possessions Trojan horses They bind you Without you realizing They hinder your natural design And make you completely blind Choose your obsessions For they are unworthy possessions; They are the weeds, You; yourself choose to grow. Some seeds are rotten.. Still you keep them, them, you don’t throw. […]...
17. A Sad State Of Freedom You waste the attention of your eyes, The glittering labour of your hands, And knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves Of which you’ll taste not a morsel; You are free to slave for others You are free to make the rich richer. The moment you’re born They plant around you Mills that grind […]...
18. ENDYMION (For music) The apple trees are hung with gold, And birds are loud in Arcady, The sheep lie bleating in the fold, The wild goat runs across the wold, But yesterday his love he told, I know he will come back to me. O rising moon! O Lady moon! Be you my lover’s sentinel, You cannot choose […]...
19. When I'm among a Blaze of Lights When I’m among a blaze of lights, With tawdry music and cigars And women dawdling through delights, And officers in cocktail bars, Sometimes I think of garden nights And elm trees nodding at the stars. I dream of a small firelit room With yellow candles burning straight, And glowing pictures in the gloom, And kindly […]...
20. UPON ROSES Under a lawn, than skies more clear, Some ruffled Roses nestling were, And snugging there, they seem’d to lie As in a flowery nunnery; They blush’d, and look’d more fresh than flowers Quickened of late by pearly showers; And all, because they were possest But of the heat of Julia’s breast, Which, as a warm […]...
21. Ripe Fruit Through eyelet holes I watched the crowd Rain of confetti fling; Their joy is lush, their laughter loud, For Carnival is King. Behind his chariot I pace To ean my petty pay; They laugh to see my monster face: “Ripe Fruit,” I hear them say. I do not laugh: my shoulders sag; No heart have […]...
22. Late, Late, So Late Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill! Late, late, so late! but we can enter still. Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. No light had we: for that we do repent; And learning this, the bridegroom will relent. Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. No light: so late! […]...
23. The Wind that Shakes the Barley There’s music in my heart all day, I hear it late and early, It comes from fields are far away, The wind that shakes the barley. Above the uplands drenched with dew The sky hangs soft and pearly, An emerald world is listening to The wind that shakes the barley. Above the bluest mountain crest […]...
24. Pipe Smoker Because I love the soothing weed And am of sober type, I’d choose me for a friend in need A man who smokes a pipe. A cove who hasn’t much to say, And spits into the fire, Puffing like me a pipe of clay, Corn-cob or briar. A chap original of thought, With cheery point […]...
25. Miniver Cheevy Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn, Grew lean while he assailed the seasons; He wept that he was ever born, And he had reasons. Miniver loved the days of old When swords were bright and steeds were prancing; The vision of a warrior bold Would set him dancing. Miniver sighed for what was not, And dreamed, […]...
26. The Philistine And The Bohemian She was a Philistine spick and span, He was a bold Bohemian. She had the mode, and the last at that; He had a cape and a brigand hat. She was so riant and chic and trim; He was so shaggy, unkempt and grim. On the rue de la Paix she was wont to shine; […]...
27. Denis Denis, whose motionable, alert, most vaulting wit Caps occasion with an intellectual fit. Yet Arthur is a Bowman: his three-heeled timber ‘ll hit The bald and bуld blнnking gold when бll ‘s dуne Right rooting in the bare butt’s wincing navel in the sight of the sun. . . . . . . . ....
28. Come Come, when the pale moon like a petal Floats in the pearly dusk of spring, Come with arms outstretched to take me, Come with lips pursed up to cling. Come, for life is a frail moth flying, Caught in the web of the years that pass, And soon we two, so warm and eager, Will […]...
29. Fear Is What Quickens Me 1 Many animals that our fathers killed in America Had quick eyes. They stared about wildly, When the moon went dark. The new moon falls into the freight yards Of cities in the south, But the loss of the moon to the dark hands of Chicago Does not matter to the deer In this northern […]...
30. Song THE boat is chafing at our long delay, And we must leave too soon The spicy sea-pinks and the inborne spray, The tawny sands, the moon. Keep us, O Thetis, in our western flight! Watch from thy pearly throne Our vessel, plunging deeper into night To reach a land unknown....
31. Brownie In a corner of the bedroom is a great big curtain, Someone lives behind it, but I don’t know who; I think it is a Brownie, but I’m not quite certain. (Nanny isn’t certain, too.) I looked behind the curtain, but he went so quickly – Brownies never wait to say, “How do you do?” […]...
32. Outside History These are outsiders, always. These stars- These iron inklings of an Irish January, Whose light happened Thousands of years before Our pain did; they are, they have always been Outside history. They keep their distance. Under them remains A place where you found You were human, and A landscape in which you know you are […]...
33. Song of the Forge The forge-fire sets a glow in the heavens, The hammer thunders, showering the smoke with sparks. A ruddy smithy, the white face of the moon, And the hammer, ringing down cold dark canyons....
34. SELF-DECEIT My neighbour’s curtain, well I see, Is moving to and fin. No doubt she’s list’ning eagerly, If I’m at home or no. And if the jealous grudge I bore And openly confess’d, Is nourish’d by me as before, Within my inmost breast. Alas! no fancies such as these E’er cross’d the dear child’s thoughts. I […]...
35. Far Rockaway Night till Morning WHAT can we say of the night? The fog night, the moon night, the fog moon night last night? There swept out of the sea a song. There swept out of the sea-torn white plungers. There came on the coast wind drive In the spit of a driven spray, On the boom of foam and […]...
36. September Lo! a ripe sheaf of many golden days Gleaned by the year in autumn’s harvest ways, With here and there, blood-tinted as an ember, Some crimson poppy of a late delight Atoning in its splendor for the flight Of summer blooms and joys­ This is September....
37. A Little Song When you, my Dear, are away, away, How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and night Starts another year of candle light. O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon! Grant me, I beg of you, this boon. Whirl round the earth as never sun Has his diurnal journey run. And, Moon, slip […]...
38. An Attempt At Jealousy So how is life with your new bloke? Simpler, I bet. Just one stroke Of his quivering oar and the skin Of the Thames goes into a spin, Eh? How is life with an oarsman? Better? More in out? Athletic? Wetter? When you hear the moan of the rowlocks, Do you urge him on like […]...
39. Which is best? Heaven Which is best? Heaven Or only Heaven to come With that old Codicil of Doubt? I cannot help esteem The “Bird within the Hand” Superior to the one The “Bush” may yield me Or may not Too late to choose again....
40. The Ragged Wood O hurry where by water among the trees The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh, When they have but looked upon their images – Would none had ever loved but you and I! Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky, When the sun looked out of his golden hood? […]...