On Building With Stone
To be an ape in little of the mountain-making mother
Like swarthy Cheops, but my own hands
For only slaves, is a far sweeter toil than to cut
Passions in verse for a sick people.
I’d liefer bed one boulder in the house-wall than be the time’s
Archilochus: we name not Homer: who now
Can even imagine the fabulous dawn when bay-leaves (to a blind
Beggar) were not bitter in the teeth?
(2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)Related poetry:
- On the Building of Springfield Let not our town be large, remembering That little Athens was the Muses’ home, That Oxford rules the heart of […]...
- Reflections of caernarvon i I shall die yearning A hand Reaching out to A face that isn’t there A face Seeking a hand […]...
- Beggar To Beggar Cried ‘Time to put off the world and go somewhere And find my health again in the sea air,’ Beggar to […]...
- The Hearth-Stone The leaves are sick and jaundiced, they Drift down the air; December’s sky is sodden grey, Dark with despair; A […]...
- To The Stone-Cutters Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated Challengers of oblivion Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down, The […]...
- Cassandra The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers Hooked in the stones of the wall, The storm-wrack […]...
- Twenty-Pound Stone It nests in the hollow of my pelvis, I carry it with both hands, as if offering my stomach, as […]...
- Rome: Building a New Street in the Ancient Quarter These numbered cliffs and gnarls of masonry Outskeleton Time’s central city, Rome; Whereof each arch, entablature, and dome Lies bare […]...
- Black Stone on Top of a White Stone I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm, On a day I already remember. I shall die in Paris it […]...
- The Building of the Ship “Build me straight, O worthy Master! Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster, And with […]...
- A Winter Daybreak Above Vence The night’s drifts Pile up below me and behind my back, Slide down the hill, rise again, and build Eerie […]...
- Luke Havergal Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal, There where the vines cling crimson on the wall, And in the twilight […]...
- Two Look at Two Love and forgetting might have carried them A little further up the mountain side With night so near, but not […]...
- Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake I My Paistin Finn is my sole desire, And I am shrunken to skin and bone, For all my heart […]...
- My Father’s Hats Sunday mornings I would reach High into his dark closet while standing on a chair and tiptoeing reach Higher, touching, […]...
- Knife Something Just now Moved through my heart Like the thinnest of blades As that red-tail pumped Once with its great […]...
- The Building Higher than the handsomest hotel The lucent comb shows up for miles, but see, All round it close-ribbed streets rise […]...
- Troll Sat Alone on His Seat of Stone Troll sat alone on his seat of stone, And munched and mumbled a bare old bone; For many a year […]...
- May Morning Deep into spring, winter is hanging on. Bitter and skillful in his Hopelessness, he stays alive in every shady place, […]...
- Insomnia. Homer. Taut canvas Insomnia. Homer. Taut canvas. Half the catalogue of ships is mine: That flight of cranes, long stretched-out line, That once […]...