Desertion

Related poetry:

1. The Circus Animals' Desertion I I sought a theme and sought for it in vain, I sought it daily for six weeks or so. Maybe at last, being but a broken man, I must be satisfied with my heart, although Winter and summer till old age began My circus animals were all on show, Those stilted boys, that burnished […]...
2. The Faithless Shadows The faithless shadows of day are running And high and clear is the call of bells, Steps of the church are blazed as with the lightning, Their stones are alive and wait for your light steps. You’ll here pass and touch the chilly stone, That’s dressed in awful sanity of span, And let the flower […]...
3. Chant For Dark Hours Some men, some men Cannot pass a Book shop. (Lady, make your mind up, and wait your life away.) Some men, some men Cannot pass a Crap game. (He said he’d come at moonrise, and here’s another day!) Some men, some men Cannot pass a Bar-room. (Wait about, and hang about, and that’s the way […]...
4. To My Wife – With A Copy Of My Poems I can write no stately proem As a prelude to my lay; From a poet to a poem I would dare to say. For if of these fallen petals One to you seem fair, Love will waft it till it settles On your hair. And when wind and winter harden All the loveless land, It […]...
5. 414. Impromptu on Dumourier's Desertion of the French Republican Army YOU’RE welcome to Despots, Dumourier; You’re welcome to Despots, Dumourier: How does Dampiere do? Ay, and Bournonville too? Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier? I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, I will take my chance with you; By […]...
6. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
7. Oh, Think Not I Am Faithful III OH, THINK not I am faithful to a vow! Faithless am I save to love’s self alone. Were you not lovely I would leave you now: After the feet of beauty fly my own. Were you not still my hunger’s rarest food, And water ever to my wildest thirst, I would desert you­think not […]...
8. Hymn 120 Faith of things unseen. Heb. 11 Faith is the brightest evidence Of things beyond our sight, Breaks through the clouds of flesh and sense, And dwells in heav’nly light. It sets times past in present view, Brings distant prospects home, Of things a thousand years ago, Or thousand years to come. By faith we know […]...
9. The Truth of Woman Woman’s faith, and woman’s trust – Write the characters in the dust; Stamp them on the running stream, Print them on the moon’s pale beam, And each evanescent letter Shall be clearer, firmer, better, And more permanent, I ween, Than the thing those letters mean. I have strain’d the spider’s thread ‘Gainst the promise of […]...
10. O Me! O Life! O ME! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; Of the endless trains of the faithless-of cities fill’d with the foolish; Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light-of the objects mean-of the struggle ever renew’d; Of the poor results […]...
11. The Sea to the Shore Lo, I have loved thee long, long have I yearned and entreated! Tell me how I may win thee, tell me how I must woo. Shall I creep to thy white feet, in guise of a humble lover? Shall I croon in mild petition, murmuring vows anew? Shall I stretch my arms unto thee, biding […]...
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. Impatience How can I wait until you come to me? The once fleet mornings linger by the way; Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee At my unrest, they seem to pause, and play Like truant children, while I sigh and say, How can I wait? How can I wait? Of old, the rapid hours Refused […]...
14. The Declaration of London We were all one heart and one race When the Abbey trumpets blew. For a moment’s breathing-space We had forgotten you. Now you return to your honoured place Panting to shame us anew. We have walked with the Ages dead With our Past alive and ablaze. And you bid us pawn our honour for bread, […]...
15. Portrait Of A Lady Your thighs are appletrees Whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky Where Watteau hung a lady’s Slipper. Your knees Are a southern breeze-or A gust of snow. Agh! what Sort of man was Fragonard? -As if that answered Anything.-Ah, yes. Below The knees, since the tune Drops that way, it is One of […]...
16. 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 […]...
17. Sardis (Revelations, iii. 1-6) “Write to Sardis,” saith the Lord, “And write what He declares, He whose Spirit, and whose word, Upholds the seven stars: All thy works and ways I search, Find thy zeal and love decay’d; Thou art call’d a living church, But thou art cold and dead. “Watch, remember, seek, and strive, Exert […]...
18. A New Year's Message To Joseph Mazzini Send the stars light, but send not love to me. Shelley. I Out of the dawning heavens that hear Young wings and feet of the new year Move through their twilight, and shed round Soft showers of sound, Soothing the season with sweet rain, If greeting come to make me fain, What is it I […]...
19. On a Soldier Fallen in the Philippines Streets of the roaring town, Hush for him, hus, be still! He comes, who was stricken down Doing the word of our will. Hush! Let him have his state, Give him his soldier’s crown. The grists of trade can wait Their grinding at the mill, But he cannot wait for his honor, now the trumpet […]...
20. The Scribe's Prayer When from my fumbling hand the tired pen falls, And in the twilight weary droops my head; While to my quiet heart a still voice calls, Calls me to join my kindred of the Dead: Grant that I may, O Lord, ere rest be mine, Write to Thy praise one radiant, ringing line. For all […]...
21. In The Firelight The fire upon the hearth is low, And there is stillness everywhere, While like winged spirits, here and there, The firelight shadows fluttering go. And as the shadows round me creep, A childish treble breaks the gloom, And softly from a further room Comes, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” And somehow, with that […]...
22. The Hill Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass. You said “Through glory and ecstasy we pass; Wind, sun, and earth remain, and birds sing still, When we are old, are old….” “And when we die All’s over that is ours; and life burns on Through other […]...
23. A Request When I am dead I would that ye make my bed On that low-lying, windy waste by the sea, Where the silvery grasses rustle and lisp; There, where the crisp Foam-flakes shall fly over me, And murmurs creep From the ancient heart of the deep, Lulling me ever, I shall most sweetly sleep. While the […]...
24. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. Daisies In the democracy of daisies Every blossom has one vote. The question on the ballot is Does he love me? If the answer’s wrong I try another, A little sorry about the petals Piling up around my shoes. Bees are loose in the fields Where daisies wait and hope, Dreaming of the kiss of a […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. Rose Leaves When they shall close my careless eyes And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her lies A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words were brittle, He dreamed so much, he did so little. When they shall seal y coffin lid And this worn mask I […]...
29. Through the strait pass of suffering Through the strait pass of suffering The Martyrs even trod. Their feet upon Temptations Their faces upon God A stately shriven Company Convulsion playing round Harmless as streaks of Meteor Upon a Planet’s Bond Their faith the everlasting troth Their Expectation fair The Needle to the North Degree Wades so thro’ polar Air!...
30. Gardening Pruning the rosebush The ache of the summer heat On my shoulders, The feel of the living stalk Between fingers, Petals – one, another, Then another Seek ground, life Not strong enough to hold on. Whether it’s blood Or petals, the gift Of time is a thread I stand on, Feet covered In the soft […]...
31. To My Brothers Small, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals, And their faint cracklings o’er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that keep A gentle empire o’er fraternal souls. And while for rhymes I search around the poles, Your eyes are fixed, as in poetic sleep, Upon the lore so voluble and deep, That […]...
32. 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 London still, That Florence gave the Renaissance to Rome. Record it for the grandson of your son – A city is not builded in a day: Our little town cannot complete her soul Till countless […]...
33. 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 […]...
34. I Wait For You I wait for you. The years in silence pass And as the image, one, I wait for you again. The distance is in flame and clear one as glass, I, silent, wait with sadness, love and pain. The distance is in flame, and you are coming fast, But I’m afraid that you will change your […]...
35. Forever Alight Were meetings destined then this was one To take a leading place, the oracle decreed it fate In a matrix of moving matter, and the signs all clattered with Chance fêted as a sweet benefactor. When we were separate Entities in clear air with a fair breeze and sailing on pleasure, Scheming elements drove us […]...
36. Ballade To Our Lady WRITTEN FOR HIS MOTHER Dame du ciel, regents terrienne, Emperiere des infemaux palus…. Lady of Heaven and earth, and therewithal Crowned Empress of the nether clefts of Hell,- I, thy poor Christian, on thy name do call, Commending me to thee, with thee to dwell, Albeit in nought I be commendable. But all mine undeserving […]...
37. What We Need Is Here Geese appear high over us, Pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, As in love or sleep, holds Them to their way, clear In the ancient faith: what we need Is here. And we pray, not For new earth or heaven, but to be Quiet in heart, and in eye, Clear. What we need is here....
38. A Grey Day Grey drizzling mists the moorlands drape, Rain whitens the dead sea, From headland dim to sullen cape Grey sails creep wearily. I know not how that merchantman Has found the heart; but ’tis her plan Seaward her endless course to shape. Unreal as insects that appall A drunkard’s peevish brain, O’er the grey deep the […]...
39. To May I have no heart to write verses to May; I have no heart-yet I’m cheerful today; I have no heart-she has won mine away So-I have no heart to write verses to May....
40. Horace to Pyrrha What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah, With smiles for diet, Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha, On the quiet? For whom do you bind up your tresses, As spun-gold yellow, Meshes that go, with your caresses, To snare a fellow? How will he rail at fate capricious, And curse you duly! Yet now he deems your […]...