If Death Is Kind

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1. Piscine kind of kinship To glibly say that Joe was sort of odd Quite missed the point. Peculiar in many Ways and kind of weird, I would have Been afraid of him were I a child (if I ever Was a meek and mild retiring kid), avoided Him as if the plague. But he was good to Mutti, And […]...
2. What Kind Of Mistress He Would Have Be the mistress of my choice, Clean in manners, clear in voice; Be she witty, more than wise, Pure enough, though not precise; Be she showing in her dress, Like a civil wilderness, That the curious may detect Order in a sweet neglect; Be she rolling in her eye, Tempting all the passers by; And […]...
3. Her Kind I have gone out, a possessed witch, Haunting the black air, braver at night; Dreaming evil, I have done my hitch Over the plain houses, light by light: Lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind. I have found the warm caves in […]...
4. On the Death of the Rev. Dr. Sewell Ere yet the morn its lovely blushes spread, See Sewell number’d with the happy dead. Hail, holy man, arriv’d th’ immortal shore, Though we shall hear thy warning voice no more. Come, let us all behold with wishful eyes The saint ascending to his native skies; From hence the prophet wing’d his rapt’rous way To […]...
5. THE DEATH OF ART “Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you.” -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam poetry “the death of art.” I am not a poet. I want to be rich and buy things for my family. Besides, I am sort of popular and can honestly say I’ve had a great […]...
6. Lukannon I met my mates in the morning (and oh, but I am old!) Where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled; I heard them lift the chorus that dropped the breakers’ song The beaches of Lukannon two million voices strong! The song of pleasant stations beside the salt lagoons, The song of blowing squadrons […]...
7. Men of Verdun There are five men in the moonlight That by their shadows stand; Three hobble humped on crutches, And two lack each a hand. Frogs somewhere near the roadside Chorus their chant absorbed: But a hush breathes out of the dream-light That far in heaven is orbed. It is gentle as sleep falling And wide as […]...
8. The Death Of Marie Toro We’re taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise; We’re taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place. Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid Except the blossoms heaping high upon her coffin lid. A week ago she roamed the street, a draggle and a slut, A by-word of the Boulevard and […]...
9. Spring Rain I thought I had forgotten, But it all came back again To-night with the first spring thunder In a rush of rain. I remembered a darkened doorway Where we stood while the storm swept by, Thunder gripping the earth And lightning scrawled on the sky. The passing motor busses swayed, For the street was a […]...
10. Be Kind we are always asked To understand the other person’s Viewpoint No matter how Out-dated Foolish or Obnoxious. One is asked To view Their total error Their life-waste With Kindliness, Especially if they are Aged. But age is the total of Our doing. They have aged Badly Because they have Lived Out of focus, They have […]...
11. A few kind words A few kind words, what can be bought with that? In essence just a clique of tidy prose, A verb, a noun, perhaps an adjectival phrase Offered in the form of venal praise – and be surprised at what it buys. Like a fleeting smile it’s currency outweighs The simple form, a hint of urbane […]...
12. A KIND OF DISTRACTION You always disrupt me; When I ring you for comfort You wing me, send my Pudding of a mind A-splatter on the wall. You chase me to bed even, Passionately, not-yourself-at-all, You bawl your lewd reminders Down aching avenues of dreams To shudder me awake. And then at last you’ll fake Your promises and take […]...
13. Sun and Fun I walked into the night-club in the morning; There was kummel on the handle of the door. The ashtrays were unemptied. The cleaning unattempted, And a squashed tomato sandwich on the floor. I pulled aside the thick magenta curtains -So Regency, so Regency, my dear – And a host of little spiders Ran a race […]...
14. TO THE KIND READER No one talks more than a Poet; Fain he’d have the people know it. Praise or blame he ever loves; None in prose confess an error, Yet we do so, void of terror, In the Muses’ silent groves. What I err’d in, what corrected, What I suffer’d, what effected, To this wreath as flow’rs belong; […]...
15. The Death Of Richard Wagner Mourning on earth, as when dark hours descend, Wide-winged with plagues, from heaven; when hope and mirth Wane, and no lips rebuke or reprehend Mourning on earth. The soul wherein her songs of death and birth, Darkness and light, were wont to sound and blend, Now silent, leaves the whole world less in worth. Winds […]...
16. What Kind Of A Person “What kind of a person are you,” I heard them say to me. I’m a person with a complex plumbing of the soul, Sophisticated instruments of feeling and a system Of controlled memory at the end of the twentieth century, But with an old body from ancient times And with a God even older than […]...
17. A Certain Kind of Holy Men Not every wino is a Holy Man. Oh, but some of them are. I love those who’ve learned To sit comfortably For long periods with their hams Pressed against their calves, Outdoors, With a wall for a back-rest, Contentedly saying nothing. These move about only when Necessary, On foot, and almost always In pairs. I […]...
18. Psalm LXXIII: Now I'm Convinced the Lord Is Kind Now I ‘m convinced the Lord is kind To men of heart sincere; Yet once my foolish thoughts repined, And bordered on despair. I grieved to see the wicked thrive, And spoke with angry breath, “How pleasant and profane they live! How peaceful is their death! “With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes, They lay their […]...
19. On The Death of a Father I was schooled well before he died, able at least To feel what others felt when their fathers Were deceased. Able but not willing And not without despair to glimpse the man Who’d hide the truth of just how much he cared. My argent truth was fulsome gloom, Moribund and drear, my face a patent […]...
20. Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because the lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above […]...
21. Remorse For Any Death Free of memory and of hope, Limitless, abstract, almost future, The dead man is not a dead man: he is death. Like the God of the mystics, Of Whom anything that could be said must be denied, The dead one, alien everywhere, Is but the ruin and absence of the world. We rob him of […]...
22. The Death of the Flowers The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs […]...
23. Spring At the first hour, it was as if one said, “Arise.” At the second hour, it was as if one said, “Go forth.” And the winter constellations that are like patient ox-eyes Sank below the white horizon at the north. At the third hour, it was as if one said, “I thirst”; At the fourth […]...
24. The Oldest Song “These were never your true love’s eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies, And the wide calm brows above them! This was never your true love’s speech. Why do you thrill when you hear it? You that have ridden out of its reach The width of the […]...
25. Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying Poetry is a kind of lying, Necessarily. To profit the poet Or beauty. But also in That truth may be told only so. Those who, admirably, refuse To falsify (as those who will not Risk pretensions) are excluded From saying even so much. Degas said he didn’t paint What he saw, but what Would enable […]...
26. Elegy on the Death of Lady Middleton THE knell of death, that on the twilight gale, Swells its deep murmur to the pensive ear; In awful sounds repeats a mournful tale, And claims the tribute of a tender tear. The dreadful hour is past! the mandate giv’n! The gentle MIDDLETON shall breathe no more, Yet who shall blame the wise decrees of […]...
27. The Army of Death When you see millions of the mouthless dead Across your dreams in pale battalions go, Say not soft things as other men have said, That you’ll remember. For you need not so. Give them not praise. For, deaf, how should they know It is not curses heaped on each gashed head? Nor tears. Their blind […]...
28. The Night was wide, and furnished scant The Night was wide, and furnished scant With but a single Star That often as a Cloud it met Blew out itself for fear The Wind pursued the little Bush And drove away the Leaves November left then clambered up And fretted in the Eaves No Squirrel went abroad A Dog’s belated feet Like intermittent […]...
29. A Death-Bed 1918 This is the State above the Law. The State exists for the State alone.” [This is a gland at the back of the jaw, And an answering lump by the collar-bone.], Some die shouting in gas or fire; Some die silent, by shell and shot. Some die desperate, caught on the wire – Some […]...
30. A Poet's Death is His Life IV The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow […]...
31. The Death Of A Fly There was once a man who disguised himself as a Housefly and went about the neighborhood depositing Flyspecks. Well, he has to do something hasn’t he? said someone to Someone else. Of course, said someone else back to someone. Then what’s all the fuss? said someone to someone else. Who’s fussing? I’m just saying that […]...
32. When Death to Either shall come When Death to either shall come,- I pray it be first to me,- Be happy as ever at home, If so, as I wish, it be. Possess thy heart, my own; And sing to the child on thy knee, Or read to thyself alone The songs that I made for thee....
33. The Indian Upon God I passed along the water’s edge below the humid trees, My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees, My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moor-fowl pace All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak: […]...
34. Death In The Arctic I I took the clock down from the shelf; “At eight,” said I, “I shoot myself.” It lacked a minute of the hour, And as I waited all a-cower, A skinful of black, boding pain, Bits of my life came back again. . . . “Mother, there’s nothing more to eat Why don’t you go […]...
35. THE DANCE OF DEATH THE warder looks down at the mid hour of night, On the tombs that lie scatter’d below: The moon fills the place with her silvery light, And the churchyard like day seems to glow. When see! first one grave, then another opes wide, And women and men stepping forth are descried, In cerements snow-white and […]...
36. A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London Never until the mankind making Bird beast and flower Fathering and all humbling darkness Tells with silence the last light breaking And the still hour Is come of the sea tumbling in harness And I must enter again the round Zion of the water bead And the synagogue of the ear of corn Shall I […]...
37. The Death of Cromwell A Poem upon the Death of His Late Highness the Lord Protector That Providence which had so long the care Of Cromwell’s head, and numbered every hair, Now in itself (the glass where all appears) Had seen the period of his golden years: And thenceforh only did attend to trace What death might least so […]...
38. The Death Of Kwasind Far and wide among the nations Spread the name and fame of Kwasind; No man dared to strive with Kwasind, No man could compete with Kwasind. But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies, They the envious Little People, They the fairies and the pygmies, Plotted and conspired against him. “If this hateful Kwasind,” said they, “If this great, […]...
39. Death's Way Old Man Death’s a lousy heel who will not play the game: Let Graveyard yawn and doom down crash, he’ll sneer and turn away. But when the sky with rapture rings and joy is like a flame, Then Old Man Death grins evilly, and swings around to slay. Jack Duval was my chosen pal in […]...
40. The Call Out of the nothingness of sleep, The slow dreams of Eternity, There was a thunder on the deep: I came, because you called to me. I broke the Night’s primeval bars, I dared the old abysmal curse, And flashed through ranks of frightened stars Suddenly on the universe! The eternal silences were broken; Hell became […]...