The Heritage

Related poetry:

1. Heritage What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang? One three centuries removed From the scenes his fathers loved, Spicy grove, cinnamon tree, What is Africa to me? So I lie, […]...
2. Heritage Now the dead past seems vividly alive, And in this shining moment I can trace, Down through the vista of the vanished years, Your faun-like form, your fond elusive face. And suddenly some secret spring’s released, And unawares a riddle is revealed, And I can read like large, black-lettered print, What seemed before a thing […]...
3. The Children's Song Puck of Poock’s Hills Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee Our love and toil in the years to be; When we are grown and take our place As men and women with our race. Father in Heaven who lovest all, Oh, help Thy children when they call; That they may build from age […]...
4. Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
5. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
6. The Heritage Cry out on Time that he may take away Your cold philosophies that give no hint Of spirit-quickened flesh; fall down and pray That Death come never with a face of flint: Death is our heritage; with Life we share The sunlight that must own his darkening hour: Within his very presence yet we dare […]...
7. 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 […]...
8. Sonnet On Famous And Familiar Sonnets And Experiences (With much help from Robert Good, William Shakespeare, John Milton, and little Catherine Schwartz) Shall I compare her to a summer play? She is too clever, too devious, too subtle, too dark: Her lies are rare, but then she paves the way Beyond the summer’s sway, within the jejune park Where all souls’ aspiration to […]...
9. I Knew A Man By Sight I knew a man by sight, A blameless wight, Who, for a year or more, Had daily passed my door, Yet converse none had had with him. I met him in a lane, Him and his cane, About three miles from home, Where I had chanced to roam, And volumes stared at him, and he […]...
10. For every Bird a Nest For every Bird a Nest Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking round Wherefore when boughs are free Households in every tree Pilgrim be found? Perhaps a home too high Ah Aristocracy! The little Wren desires Perhaps of twig so fine Of twine e’en superfine, Her pride aspires The Lark is not ashamed […]...
11. Sonnet 131: Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know’st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold Thy face hath not the power to make love groan; To say they […]...
12. Hymn 127 Christ’s invitation to sinners, or, Humility and pride. Mt. 11:28-30. “Come hither, all ye weary souls, Ye heavy-laden sinners, come; I’ll give you rest from all your toils, And raise you to my heav’nly home. “They shall find rest that learn of me; I’m of a meek and lowly mind; But passion rages like the […]...
13. To The Men Of England Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save, From the cradle to the grave, Those ungrateful drones who would Drain your sweat nay, drink your blood? Wherefore, Bees of England, forge Many a […]...
14. No Need The elephant’s trunk Is for picking up pistachios: No need to bend over. The giraffe’s neck Is for grazing on stars: No need to fly. The chameleon’s skin, Green, blue, lavender, white, As it wishes, Is for hiding from ravenous animals: No need to flee. The turtle’s shell, Is for sleeping inside, Even in winter: […]...
15. The Legend of Evil I This is the sorrowful story Told when the twilight fails And the monkeys walk together Holding their neighbours’ tails: “Our fathers lived in the forest, Foolish people were they, They went down to the cornland To teach the farmers to play. “Our fathers frisked in the millet, Our fathers skipped in the wheat, Our […]...
16. The Prodigal Son Here come I to my own again, Fed, forgiven and known again, Claimed by bone of my bone again And cheered by flesh of my flesh. The fatted calf is dressed for me, But the husks have greater zest for me, I think my pigs will be best for me, So I’m off to the […]...
17. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
18. A Tooth upon Our Peace A Tooth upon Our Peace The Peace cannot deface Then Wherefore be the Tooth? To vitalize the Grace The Heaven hath a Hell Itself to signalize And every sign before the Place Is Gilt with Sacrifice...
19. From the Bush The Channel fog has lifted – And see where we have come! Round all the world we’ve drifted, A hundred years from “home”. The fields our parents longed for – Ah! we shall ne’er know how – The wealth that they were wronged for We’ll see as strangers now! The Dover cliffs have passed on […]...
20. Hymn 37 Christ’s intercession. Lift up your eyes to th’ heav’nly seats Where your Redeemer stays; Kind Intercessor, there he sits, And loves, and pleads, and prays. ‘Twas well, my soul, he died for thee, And shed his vital blood; Appeased stern justice on the tree, And then arose to God. Petitions now, and praise may rise, […]...
21. The Confessional [SPAIN.] I. It is a lie – their Priests, their Pope, Their Saints, their… all they fear or hope Are lies, and lies – there! through my door And ceiling, there! and walls and floor, There, lies, they lie – shall still be hurled Till spite of them I reach the world! II. You think […]...
22. The dead babe Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, In agony I knelt and said: “0 God! what have I done, Or in what wise offended Thee, That Thou should’st take away from me My little son? “Upon the thousand useless lives, Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives, Thy wrath were better spent! Why should’st Thou […]...
23. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
24. Arithmetic on the Frontier A great and glorious thing it is To learn, for seven years or so, The Lord knows what of that and this, Ere reckoned fit to face the foe The flying bullet down the Pass, That whistles clear: “All flesh is grass.” Three hundred pounds per annum spent On making brain and body meeter For […]...
25. Rimmon 1903 After Boer War Duly with knees that feign to quake Bent head and shaded brow, Yet once again, for my father’s sake, In Rimmon’s House I bow. The curtains part, the trumpet blares, And the eunuchs howl aloud; And the gilt, swag-bellied idol glares Insolent over the crowd. “This is Rimmon, Lord of the […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. Hymn 75 The description of Christ the beloved. SS 5:9-16. The wond’ring world inquires to know Why I should love my Jesus so: What are his charms,” say they, “above The objects of a mortal love?” Yes! my Beloved, to my sight Shows a sweet mixture, red and white: All human beauties, all divine, In my Beloved […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. Legends CLOWNS DYINGFIVE circus clowns dying this year, morning newspapers told their lives, how each one horizontal in a last gesture of hands arranged by an undertaker, shook thousands into convulsions of laughter from behind rouge-red lips and powder-white face. STEAMBOAT BILLWhen the boilers of the Robert E. Lee exploded, a steamboat winner of many races […]...
30. Ulster The dark eleventh hour Draws on and sees us sold To every evil power We fought against of old. Rebellion, rapine hate Oppression, wrong and greed Are loosed to rule our fate, By England’s act and deed. The Faith in which we stand, The laws we made and guard, Our honour, lives, and land Are […]...
31. TO MEADOWS Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill’d with flowers; And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours. You have beheld how they With wicker arks did come, To kiss and bear away The richer cowslips home. You’ve heard them sweetly sing, And seen them in a round; Each […]...
32. Our Bog Is Dood Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood, They lisped in accents mild, But when I asked them to explain They grew a little wild. How do you know your Bog is dood My darling little child? We know because we wish it so That is enough, they cried, And straight within each infant eye […]...
33. If Still Your Orchards Bear Brother, that breathe the August air Ten thousand years from now, And smell-if still your orchards bear Tart apples on the bough- The early windfall under the tree, And see the red fruit shine, I cannot think your thoughts will be Much different from mine. Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon […]...
34. At the Vietnam War Memorial Black granite stretches its harsh, tapering wings Up to pedestrian-level grass But sucks me down, here, at the intersection of names. I forgive, I must, though I wish something Could heal this wound in the earth. Behold, all theorists, the price of theory: Extreme unction by napalm and blood, Vets shipped home whole or in […]...
35. The Bee is not afraid of me The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially The Brooks laugh louder when I come The Breezes madder play; Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists, Wherefore, Oh Summer’s Day?...
36. After the Engagement Well, Mabel, ’tis over and ended – The ball I wrote was to be; And oh! it was perfectly splendid – If you could have been here to see. I’ve a thousand things to write you That I know you are wanting to hear, And one, that is sure to delight you – I am […]...
37. Long Plighted Is it worth while, dear, now, To call for bells, and sally forth arrayed For marriage-rites discussed, decried, delayed So many years? Is it worth while, dear, now, To stir desire for old fond purposings, By feints that Time still serves for dallyings, Though quittance nears? Is it worth while, dear, when The day being […]...
38. The Beautiful Lawn Sprinkler What gives it power makes it change its mind At each extreme, and lean its rising rain Down low, first one and then the other way; In which exchange humility and pride Reverse, forgive, arise, and die again, Wherefore it holds at both ends of the day The rainbow in its scattering grains of spray....
39. The Fathers Our fathers all were poor, Poorer our fathers’ fathers; Beyond, we dare not look. We, the sons, keep store Of tarnished gold that gathers Around us from the night, Record it in this book That, when the line is drawn, Credit and creditor gone, Column and figure flown, Will open into light. Archaic fevers shake […]...
40. Alias Bill We bore him to his boneyard lot One afternoon at three; The clergyman was on the spot To earn his modest fee. We sprinkled on his coffin ld The customary loam, And so old Bill was snugly slid To his last home. A lonesome celebate we thought, For close as clam was he; We never […]...