The Bandit

Related poetry:

1. Night on The Prairies NIGHT on the prairies; The supper is over-the fire on the ground burns low; The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets: I walk by myself-I stand and look at the stars, which I think now I never realized before. Now I absorb immortality and peace, I admire death, and test propositions. How plenteous! How […]...
2. Mother's Loss If I could clasp my little babe Upon my breast to-night, I would not mind the blowing wind That shrieketh in affright. Oh, my lost babe! my little babe, My babe with dreamful eyes; Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold Shrieks woeful lullabies. My breast is softer than the sod; This room, with […]...
3. Is it Well with the Child? SAFE where I cannot die yet, Safe where I hope to lie too, Safe from the fume and the fret; You, and you, Whom I never forget. Safe from the frost and the snow, Safe from the storm and the sun, Safe where the seeds wait to grow One by one, And to come back […]...
4. His Meditation Upon Death BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend, Blest with the meditation of my end; Though they be few in number, I’m content; If otherwise, I stand indifferent, Nor makes it matter, Nestor’s years to tell, If man lives long, and if he live not well. A multitude of days still heaped on […]...
5. Hymn 44 Hell; or, The vengeance of God. With holy fear and humble song, The dreadful God our souls adore; Rev’rence and awe become the tongue That speaks the terrors of his power. Far in the deep where darkness dwells, The land of horror and despair, Justice has built a dismal hell, And laid her stores of […]...
6. The Faceless Man I’m dead. Officially I’m dead. Their hope is past. How long I stood as missing! Now, at last I’m dead. Look in my face no likeness can you see, No tiny trace of him they knew as “me”. How terrible the change! Even my eyes are strange. So keyed are they to pain, That if […]...
7. Poem 96 SHe tooke him streight full pitiously lamenting, And wrapt him in her smock: She wrapt him softly, all the while repenting, That he the fly did mock. She drest his wound and it embaulmed wel With salue of soueraigne might: And then she bath’d him in a dainty well The well of deare delight. Who […]...
8. 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 […]...
9. Sonnet XLI: Why Do I Speak of Joy Love’s Lunacy Why do I speak of joy, or write of love, When my heart is the very den of horror, And in my soul the pains of Hell I prove, With all his torments and infernal terror? What should I say? What yet remains to do? My brain is dry with weeping all too […]...
10. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
11. If I Could Mourn Like A Mourning Dove It is what recurs that we believe, Your face not at one moment looking Sideways up at me anguished or Elate, but the old words welling up by Gravity rearranged: Two weeks before you died in Pain worn out, after my usual casual sign-off With All my love, your simple Solemn My love to you, […]...
12. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
13. Victory Stuff What d’ye think, lad; what d’ye think, As the roaring crowds go by? As the banners flare and the brasses blare And the great guns rend the sky? As the women laugh like they’d all gone mad, And the champagne glasses clink: Oh, you’re grippin’ me hand so tightly, lad, I’m a-wonderin’: what d’ye think? […]...
14. II. Safety Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest He who has found our hid security, Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest, And heard our word, ‘Who is so safe as we?’ We have found safety with all things undying, The winds, and morning, tears of men and mirth, The deep […]...
15. Garden and cradle When our babe he goeth walking in his garden, Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play; The posies they are good to him, And bow them as they should to him, As fareth he upon his kingly way; And birdlings of the wood to him Make music, gentle music, all the day, When our babe […]...
16. The Sniper Because back home in Tennessee I was a champeen shot, They made a sniper outa me An’ ninety krouts I got: I wish to Christ I’d not! Athinkin’ o’ them blasted lives It’s kindo’ blue I be; Them lads no doubt had kids an’ wives An’ happy home like me: Them stiffs I still can […]...
17. Dream Song 33: An apple arc'd toward Kleitos; whose great King An apple arc’d toward Kleitos; whose great King Wroth & of wine did study where his sword, Sneaked away, might be. . . With swollen lids staggered up and clung Dim to the cloth of gold. An un-Greek word Blister, to him guard, And the trumpeter would not sound, fisted. Ha, They hustle Clitus out; […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. Good-night MANY ways to spell good night. Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes. They fizz in the air, touch the water and quit. Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue and then go out. Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar. […]...
20. Fragment At last I entered a long dark gallery, Catacomb-lined; and ranged at the side Were the bodies of men from far and wide Who, motion past, were nevertheless not dead. “The sense of waiting here strikes strong; Everyone’s waiting, waiting, it seems to me; What are you waiting for so long? What is to happen?” […]...
21. A Golden Day The subtle beauty of this day Hangs o’er me like a fairy spell, And care and grief have flown away, And every breeze sings, “all is well.” I ask, “Holds earth or sin, or woe?” My heart replies, “I do not know.” Nay! all we know, or feel, my heart, Today is joy undimmed, complete; […]...
22. 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; […]...
23. Dream Song 58: Industrious, affable, having brain on fire Industrious, affable, having brain on fire, Henry perplexed himself; others gave up; Good girls gave in; Geography was hard on friendship, Sire; Marriages lashed & languished, anguished; dearth of group And what else had been; The splendour & the lose grew all the same, Sire. His heart stiffened, and he failed to smile, Catching (enfit) […]...
24. The Rear-Guard Groping along the tunnel, step by step, He winked his prying torch with patching glare From side to side, and sniffed the unwholesome air. Tins, boxes, bottles, shapes too vague to know, A mirror smashed, the mattress from a bed; And he, exploring fifty feet below The rosy gloom of battle overhead. Tripping, he grapped […]...
25. The Summer I Was Sixteen The turquoise pool rose up to meet us, Its slide a silver afterthought down which We plunged, screaming, into a mirage of bubbles. We did not exist beyond the gaze of a boy. Shaking water off our limbs, we lifted Up from ladder rungs across the fern-cool Lip of rim. Afternoon. Oiled and sated, We […]...
26. Returning, We Hear the Larks Sombre the night is. And though we have our lives, we know What sinister threat lies there. Dragging these anguished limbs, we only know This poison-blasted track opens on our camp – On a little safe sleep. But hark! joy – joy – strange joy. Lo! heights of night ringing with unseen larks. Music showering […]...
27. A Word for the Hour The firmament breaks up. In black eclipse Light after light goes out. One evil star, Luridly glaring through the smoke of war, As in the dream of the Apocalypse, Drags others down. Let us not weakly weep Nor rashly threaten. Give us grace to keep Our faith and patience; wherefore should we leap On one […]...
28. Florrie Because I was a wonton wild And welcomed many a lover, Who is the father of my child I wish I could discover. For though I know it is not right In tender arms to tarry, A barmaid has to be polite To Tom and Dick and Harry. My truest love was Poacher Jim: I […]...
29. Poet's Path My garden hath a slender path With ivy overgrown, A secret place where once would pace A pot all alone; I see him now with fretted brow, Plunged deep in thought; And sometimes he would write maybe, And sometimes he would not. A verse a day he used to say Keeps worry from the door; […]...
30. A Question Whene’er I feed the barnyard folk My gentle soul is vexed; My sensibilities are torn And I am sore perplexed. The rooster so politely stands While waiting for his food, But when I feed him, what a change! He then is rough and rude. He crowds his gentle wives aside Or pecks them on the […]...
31. The Spirit Of The Unborn Babe The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane, Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the night; For, oh, the sky was desolate and wild with wind and rain; And how the little room was crammed with coziness and light! Except the flirting of the fire there was no sound at […]...
32. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
33. A Nativity 1914-18 The Babe was laid in the Manger Between the gentle kine All safe from cold and danger “But it was not so with mine, (With mine! With mine!) “Is it well with the child, is it well?” The waiting mother prayed. “For I know not how he fell, And I know not where he […]...
34. 40,000 at the track today, Father’s Day, Each paid admission was Entitled to a wallet And each contained a Little surprise. Most of the men seemed Between 30 and 55, Going to fat, Many of them in walking Shorts, They had gone stale in Life, Flattened out…. In fact, damn it, they Aren’t even worth writing […]...
35. Waiting For The Miracle (co-written by Sharon Robinson) Baby, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been waiting night and day. I didn’t see the time, I waited half my life away. There were lots of invitations And I know you sent me some, But I was waiting For the miracle, for the miracle to come. I know you really loved me. […]...
36. Stalk Me Liner Notes – (from Love Is A Dog From Hell) My friend Jenny is really Worried that people are going to follow me around and send me dead animal Parts and doll heads as a result of this song but please, if you feel inclined To send me dead animal parts, think it through. Thanks. […]...
37. Someone's Mother Someone’s Mother trails the street Wrapt in rotted rags; Broken slippers on her feet Drearily she drags; Drifting in the bitter night, Gnawing gutter bread, With a face of tallow white, Listless as the dead. Someone’s Mother in the dim Of the grey church wall Hears within a Christmas hymn, One she can recall From […]...
38. The Tourist From Syracuse One of those men who can be a car salesman or a tourist from Syracuse or a Hired assassin. John D. MacDonald You would not recognize me. Mine is the face which blooms in The dank mirrors of washrooms As you grope for the light switch. My eyes have the expression Of the cold eyes […]...
39. Poor Kid Mumsie and Dad are raven dark And I am lily blonde. ”Tis strange,’ I once heard nurse remark, ‘You do not correspond.’ And yet they claim me as their own, Born of their flesh and bone. To doubt their parenthood I dread, But now to girlhood grown, The thought is haunting in my head That […]...
40. To fight aloud, is very brave To fight aloud, is very brave But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe Who win, and nations do not see Who fall and none observe Whose dying eyes, no Country Regards with patriot love We trust, in plumed procession For such, the Angels go Rank after Rank, with even […]...