To Sunnydale

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1. The Lone Trail Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it, Though it lead to glory or the darkness of the pit. Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid your love good-by; The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow till you die. The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried; […]...
2. The Land Of Beyond Have ever you heard of the Land of Beyond, That dreams at the gates of the day? Alluring it lies at the skirts of the skies, And ever so far away; Alluring it calls: O ye the yoke galls, And ye of the trail overfond, With saddle and pack, by paddle and track, Let’s go […]...
3. Heart O' The North And when I come to the dim trail-end, I who have been Life’s rover, This is all I would ask, my friend, Over and over and over: A little space on a stony hill With never another near me, Sky o’ the North that’s vast and still, With a single star to cheer me; Star […]...
4. Light Between the Trees Long, long, long the trail Through the brooding forest-gloom, Down the shadowy, lonely vale Into silence, like a room Where the light of life has fled, And the jealous curtains close Round the passionless repose Of the silent dead. Plod, plod, plod away, Step by step in mouldering moss; Thick branches bar the day Over […]...
5. A Noon Song There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon; But who will give praise to the fulness of light, And sing us a song of the glory of noon? Oh, the high noon, the clear noon, The noon with golden crest; When the blue […]...
6. The End Of The Trail Life, you’ve been mighty good to me, Yet here’s the end of the trail; No more mountain, moor and sea, No more saddle and sail. Waves a-leap in the laughing sun Call to me as of yore. . . . Alas! my errant days are done: I’ll rove no more, no more. Life, you’ve cheered […]...
7. Adventure Out of the wood my White Knight came: His eyes were bright with a bitter flame, As I clung to his stirrup leather; For I was only a dreaming lad, Yet oh, what a wonderful faith I had! And the song in my heart was never so glad, As we took to the trail together. […]...
8. The Trail Of No Return So now I take a bitter road Whereon no bourne I see, And wearily I lift the load That once I bore with glee. For me no more by sea or shore Adventure’s star shall burn, As I forsake wild ways to take The Trail of No Return. Such paths of peril I have trod: […]...
9. The New World A man roams the streets with a basket Of freestone peaches hollering, “Peaches, Peaches, yellow freestone peaches for sale.” My grandfather in his prime could outshout The Tigers of Wrath or the factory whistles Along the river. Hamtramck hungered For yellow freestone peaches, downriver Wakened from a dream of work, Zug Island danced Into the […]...
10. The Long Trail There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand grey to the sun, Singing: “Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the dover, “And your English summer’s done.” You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind, And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; You […]...
11. L'Envoi There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand gray to the sun, Singing: “Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover, And your English summer’s done.” You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind, And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; You […]...
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. 37. Epitaph on William Muir AN HONEST man here lies at rest As e’er God with his image blest; The friend of man, the friend of truth, The friend of age, and guide of youth: Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d, Few heads with knowledge so informed: If there’s another world, he lives in bliss; If there is none, […]...
14. Lament for Eorl the Young Where now is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing? Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow; The days […]...
15. Whene'er I See Those Smiling Eyes Whene’er I see those smiling eyes, So full of hope, and joy, and light, As if no cloud could ever rise, To dim a heaven so purely bright I sigh to think how soon that brow In grief may lose its every ray, And that light heart, so joyous now, Almost forget it once was […]...
16. How Dear to Me the Hour How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent sea, For then sweet dreams of other days arise, And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. And, as I watch the line of light, that plays Along the smooth wave toward the burning west, I long to tread that […]...
17. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
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. Vickery's Mountain Blue in the west the mountain stands, And through the long twilight Vickery sits with folded hands, And Vickery’s eyes are bright. Bright, for he knows what no man else On earth as yet may know: There’s a golden word that he never tells, And a gift that he will not show. He dreams of […]...
20. Seeing Off Yuan the Second on a Mission to Anxi Weicheng morning rain moisten light dust Visitor house green green willow colour new Urge gentleman further finish one cup alcohol West outside Yang Pass no friend person At Weicheng morning rain has dampened light dust, By the hostel, the willows are all fresh and green. I urge my friend to drink a last cup of […]...
21. Friend Art thou abroad on this stormy night On thy journey of love, my friend? The sky groans like one in despair. I have no sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and look out on The darkness, my friend! I can see nothing before me. I wonder where lies thy path! By what […]...
22. Early Moon THE BABY moon, a canoe, a silver papoose canoe, sails and sails in the Indian west. A ring of silver foxes, a mist of silver foxes, sit and sit around the Indian moon. One yellow star for a runner, and rows of blue stars for more runners, keep a line of watchers. O foxes, baby […]...
23. Topography After we flew across the country we Got in bed, laid our bodies Delicately together, like maps laid Face to face, East to West, my San Francisco against your New York, your Fire Island against my Sonoma, my New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho Bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas Burning against […]...
24. Dream Song 127: Again, his friend's death made the man sit still Again, his friend’s death made the man sit still And freeze inside—his daughter won first price— His wife scowled over at him— It seemed to be Hallowe’en. His friend’s death had been adjudged suicide, Which dangles a trail Longer than Henry’s chill, longer than his loss And longer than the letter that he wrote That […]...
25. Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia Swings the way still by hollow and hill, And all the world’s a song; “She’s far,” it sings me, “but fair,” it rings me, “Quiet,” it laughs, “and strong!” Oh! spite of the miles and years between us, Spite of your chosen part, I do remember; and I go With laughter in my heart. So […]...
26. The Goat And I Each sunny day upon my way A goat I pass; He has a beard of silver grey, A bell of brass. And all the while I am in sight He seems to muse, And stares at me with all his might And chews and chews. Upon the hill so thymy sweet With joy of Spring, […]...
27. To Thomas Butts TO my friend Butts I write My first vision of light, On the yellow sands sitting. The sun was emitting His glorious beams From Heaven’s high streams. Over sea, over land, My eyes did expand Into regions of air, Away from all care; Into regions of fire, Remote from desire; The light of the morning […]...
28. Old Bob I guess folks think I’m mighty dumb Since Jack and Jim and Joe Have hit the trail to Kingdom Come And left me here below: Since Death, the bastard, bowled them out, And left me faced with Doubt. My pals have all passed out on me And I am by my lone; Old Bill was […]...
29. The Trapper's Christmas Eve It’s mighty lonesome-like and drear. Above the Wild the moon rides high, And shows up sharp and needle-clear The emptiness of earth and sky; No happy homes with love a-glow; No Santa Claus to make believe: Just snow and snow, and then more snow; It’s Christmas Eve, it’s Christmas Eve. And here am I where […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. Aeolian Harp O pale green sea, With long, pale, purple clouds above – What lies in me like weight of love? What dies in me With utter grief, because there comes no sign Through the sun-raying West, or the dim sea-line? O salted air, Blown round the rocky headland still, What calls me there from cove and […]...
32. At Cheyenne Young Lochinvar came in from the West, With fringe on his trousers and fur on his vest; The width of his hat-brim could nowhere be beat, His No. Brogans were chuck full of feet, His girdle was horrent with pistols and things, And he flourished a handful of aces on kings. The fair Mariana sate […]...
33. On Eastnor Knoll SILENT are the woods, and the dim green boughs are Hushed in the twilight: yonder, in the path through The apple orchard, is a tired plough-boy Calling the cows home. A bright white star blinks, the pale moon rounds, but Still the red, lurid wreckage of the sunset Smoulders in smoky fire, and burns on […]...
34. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
35. Old Times Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times; Of the long lost golden hours. When “Winter” meant only Christmas chimes, And “Summer” wreaths of flowers. Life has grown old, and cold, my friend, And the winter now, means death. And summer blossoms speak all too plain Of the dear, dead forms beneath. But […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. An Epitaph Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she; I think she was the most beautiful lady That ever was in the West Country. But beauty vanishes, beauty passes; However rare rare it be; And when I crumble, who will remember This lady of the West Country....
38. The Atavist What are you doing here, Tom Thorne, on the white top-knot o’ the world, Where the wind has the cut of a naked knife and the stars are rapier keen? Hugging a smudgy willow fire, deep in a lynx robe curled, You that’s a lord’s own son, Tom Thorne what does your madness mean? Go […]...
39. The Palm And The Pine From the German of Heine. In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone, Upon a wintry height; It sleeps: around it snows have thrown A covering of white. It dreams forever of a Palm That, far i’ the Morning-land, Stands silent in a most sad calm Midst of the burning sand....
40. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...