The Story of Uriah

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1. My Rival If she met him or he met her, I knew that something must occur; For they were just like flint and steel To strike the spark of woe and weal; Or like two splinters broken fine, In perfect fitness to combine; And so I ept them well apart, For she was precious to my heart. […]...
2. Elizabeth Barrett Browning Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sat gossiping with Robert. (She was really a raving beauty in her day. With Mary Pickford curls in clouds and whirls.) She was trying to think of something nice to say, So she pointed to a page by her fellow star and sage, And said: “I wish that I could write that […]...
3. A Christmas Ghost Story South of the Line, inland from far Durban, A mouldering soldier lies your countryman. Awry and doubled up are his gray bones, And on the breeze his puzzled phantom moans Nightly to clear Canopus: “I would know By whom and when the All-Earth-gladdening Law Of Peace, brought in by that Man Crucified, Was ruled to […]...
4. Sonnet XXXVIII: Sitting Alone, Love Sitting alone, Love bids me go and write; Reason plucks back, commanding me to stay, Boasting that she doth still direct the way, Or else Love were unable to endite. Love, growing angry, vexed at the spleen And scorning Reason’s maimed argument, Straight taxeth Reason, wanting to invent, Where she with Love conversing hath not […]...
5. Sonnet LXXXVI Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither […]...
6. Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor […]...
7. Sonnets CXXIX: Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjur’d, murd’rous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; Enjoy’d no sooner but despised straight; Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had, Past reason hated, as a swallow’d bait, On purpose laid to […]...
8. Sonnet CXXIX The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoy’d no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated, as a swallow’d bait On purpose laid to […]...
9. Sonnets xix TH’ expense of Spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; Enjoy’d no sooner but despised straight; Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had, Past reason hated, as a swallow’d bait On purpose laid to […]...
10. Unto like Story Trouble has enticed me Unto like Story Trouble has enticed me How Kinsmen fell Brothers and Sister who preferred the Glory And their young will Bent to the Scaffold, or in Dungeons chanted Till God’s full time When they let go the ignominy smiling And Shame went still Unto guessed Crests, my moaning fancy, leads me, Worn fair By […]...
11. Bring me the sunset in a cup Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps Tell me what time the weaver sleeps Who spun the breadth of blue! Write me how many notes there be In the new Robin’s ecstasy Among astonished boughs How many trips […]...
12. A Story For Rose On The Midnight Flight To Boston Until tonight they were separate specialties, Different stories, the best of their own worst. Riding my warm cabin home, I remember Betsy’s Laughter; she laughed as you did, Rose, at the first Story. Someday, I promised her, I’ll be someone Going somewhere and we plotted it in the humdrum School for proper girls. The next […]...
13. A Disqualified Jockey's Story You see, the thing was this way there was me, That rode Panopply, the Splendor mare, And Ikey Chambers on the Iron Dook, And Smith, the half-caste rider on Regret, And that long bloke from Wagga him that rode Veronikew, the Snowy River horse. Well, none of them had chances not a chance Among the […]...
14. The Methodist Says Tom to Jack, ’tis very odd, These representatives of God, In color, way of life and evil, Should be so very like the devil. Jack, understand, was one of those, Who mould religion in the rose, A red hot methodist; his face Was full of puritanic grace, His loose lank hair, his slow gradation, […]...
15. The Story Of Our Lives 1 We are reading the story of our lives Which takes place in a room. The room looks out on a street. There is no one there, No sound of anything. The tress are heavy with leaves, The parked cars never move. We keep turning the pages, hoping for something, Something like mercy or change, […]...
16. The Story of Ung Once, on a glittering ice-field, ages and ages ago, Ung, a maker of pictures, fashioned an image of snow. Fashioned the form of a tribesman gaily he whistled and sung, Working the snow with his fingers. Read ye the Story of Ung! Pleased was his tribe with that image came in their hundreds to scan […]...
17. A True Story Little Ann and her mother were walking one day Through London’s wide city so fair, And business obliged them to go by the way That led them through Cavendish Square. And as they pass’d by the great house of a Lord, A beautiful chariot there came, To take some most elegant ladies abroad, Who straightway […]...
18. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
19. The Dream Said Will: “I’ll stay and till the land.” Said Jack: “I’ll sail the sea.” So one went forth kit-bag in hand, The other ploughed the lea. They met again at Christmas-tide, And wistful were the two. Said Jack: “you’re lucky here to bide.” Said Will: “I envy you.” “For in your eyes a light I […]...
20. Jack's Legacy The critic gushed and said, “Just like Jack, So raw, I never thought to see another writer just Like Kerouac!” Kerouac, who the fuck is he? A writer? Christ, that’s a laugh, compare me to a writer! Let’s face it I’m no hack, I’m not so much to look at either, But maybe Jack took […]...
21. A Week Later A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t Think I could ever write about it. Maybe in a year I could write something. There is something in me maybe someday To be written; now it is folded, and folded, And folded, like a note in school. And in my dream Someone was playing […]...
22. The Months have ends the Years a knot The Months have ends the Years a knot No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery The Earth lays back these tired lives In her mysterious Drawers Too tenderly, that any doubt An ultimate Repose The manner of the Children Who weary of the Day Themself the noisy Plaything They […]...
23. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
24. Dream Song 67: I don't operate often. When I do I don’t operate often. When I do, Persons take note. Nurses look amazed. They pale. The patient is brought back to life, or so. The reason I don’t do this more (I quote) Is: I have a living to fail— Because of my wife & son—to keep from earning. €”Mr Bones, I sees that. They […]...
25. WELCOME HOME ‘Leeds welcomes you’ in flowers Garlanding the white stuccoed tower Of City Station: red on green As poetry’s demon seizes me, Upending all ordures of order. ‘Haworth Moor, Haworth Moor’ Echoes and re-echoes under the Dark Arches Where the Aire gurgles and swirls In eddies of Jack the Ripper, cloud-hopping Jumping Jack Flash but Jack’s […]...
26. Story Tired of a landscape known too well when young: The deliberate shallow hills, the boring birds Flying past rocks; tired of remembering The village children and their naughty words, He abandoned his small holding and went South, Recognised at once his wished-for lie In the inhabitants’ attractive mouth, The church beside the marsh, the hot […]...
27. Story “And if he’s gone away,” said she, “Good riddance, if you’re asking me. I’m not a one to lie awake And weep for anybody’s sake. There’s better lads than him about! I’ll wear my buckled slippers out A-dancing till the break of day. I’m better off with him away! And if he never come,” said […]...
28. An Old Story Strange that I did not know him then. That friend of mine! I did not even show him then One friendly sign; But cursed him for the ways he had To make me see My envy of the praise he had For praising me. I would have rid the earth of him Once, in my […]...
29. Story A woman’s taking her late-afternoon walk On Chestnut where no sidewalk exists And houses with gravel driveways Sit back among the pines. Only the house With the vicious dog is close to the road. An electric fence keeps him in check. When she comes to that house, the woman Always crosses to the other side. […]...
30. An Old Story (Retold in Rhyme) They threw him in a prison cell; He moaned upon his bed. And when he crept from coils of hell: “Last night you killed,” they said. “last night in drunken rage you slew A being brave with breath; A radiant soul, because of you Lies dark in death.” “last night I killed,” […]...
31. The Story of Sigurd the Volsung (excerpt) But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth, And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious girth; But they twain arose together, and with both her palms outspread, And bathed in the light returning, she cried aloud and said: “All hail, O Day and thy Sons, […]...
32. Tell Me a Story Long ago, in Kentucky, I, a boy, stood By a dirt road, in first dark, and heard The great geese hoot northward. I could not see them, there being no moon And the stars sparse. I heard them. I did not know what was happening in my heart. It was the season before the elderberry […]...
33. Story Of Isaac The door it opened slowly, My father he came in, I was nine years old. And he stood so tall above me, His blue eyes they were shining And his voice was very cold. He said, “I’ve had a vision And you know I’m strong and holy, I must do what I’ve been told.” So […]...
34. Pirate Story Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing, Three of us abroad in the basket on the lea. Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring, And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea. Where shall we adventure, to-day that we’re afloat, Wary of the […]...
35. Centenarian's Story, The GIVE me your hand, old Revolutionary; The hill-top is nigh-but a few steps, (make room, gentlemen;) Up the path you have follow’d me well, spite of your hundred and extra years; You can walk, old man, though your eyes are almost done; Your faculties serve you, and presently I must have them serve me. Rest, […]...
36. Jack Honest, or the Widow and Her Son Jack Honest was only eight years of age when his father died, And by the death of his father, Mrs Honest was sorely tried; And Jack was his father’s only joy and pride, And for honesty Jack couldn’t be equalled in the country-side. So a short time before Jack’s father died, ‘Twas loud and bitterly […]...
37. True Story they found him walking along the freeway All red in Front He had taken a rusty tin can And cut off his sexual Machinery As if to say See what you’ve done to Me? you might as well have the Rest. And he put part of him In one pocket and Part of him in […]...
38. The Tree: An Old Man's Story I Its roots are bristling in the air Like some mad Earth-god’s spiny hair; The loud south-wester’s swell and yell Smote it at midnight, and it fell. Thus ends the tree Where Some One sat with me. II Its boughs, which none but darers trod, A child may step on from the sod, And twigs […]...
39. A Sourdough Story Hark to the Sourdough story, told at sixty below, When the pipes are lit and we smoke and spit Into the campfire glow. Rugged are we and hoary, and statin’ a general rule, A genooine Sourdough story Ain’t no yarn for the Sunday School. A Sourdough came to stake his claim in Heav’n one morning […]...
40. A Well-Worn Story In April, in April, My one love came along, And I ran the slope of my high hill To follow a thread of song. His eyes were hard as porphyry With looking on cruel lands; His voice went slipping over me Like terrible silver hands. Together we trod the secret lane And walked the muttering […]...