Let It Be Forgotten

Related poetry:

1. Whether they have forgotten Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered Safer not to know Miseries of conjecture Are a softer woe Than a Fact of Iron Hardened with I know...
2. The Eagle That is Forgotten Sleep softly… eagle forgotten… under the stone. Time has its way with you there, and the clay has its own. “We have buried him now,” thought your foes, and in secret rejoiced. They made a brave show of their mourning, their hatred unvoiced. They had snarled at you, barked at you, foamed at you, day […]...
3. Tell as a Marksman were forgotten Tell as a Marksman were forgotten Tell this Day endures Ruddy as that coeval Apple The Tradition bears Fresh as Mankind that humble story Though a statelier Tale Grown in the Repetition hoary Scarcely would prevail Tell had a son The ones that knew it Need not linger here Those who did not to Human […]...
4. The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, And frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say, God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words Get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according To which nation. French has no word for home, And we have no word […]...
5. For Johnny Pole On The Forgotten Beach In his tenth July some instinct Taught him to arm the waiting wave, A giant where its mouth hung open. He rode on the lip that buoyed him there And buckled him under. The beach was strung With children paddling their ages in, Under the glare od noon chipping Its light out. He stood up, […]...
6. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
7. The To-Be-Forgotten I I heard a small sad sound, And stood awhile among the tombs around: “Wherefore, old friends,” said I, “are you distrest, Now, screened from life’s unrest?” II “O not at being here; But that our future second death is near; When, with the living, memory of us numbs, And blank oblivion comes! III “These, […]...
8. But Not Forgotten I think, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head, Nor all the tremulous things I said. You still will see me, small and white And smiling, in the […]...
9. God-Forgotten I towered far, and lo! I stood within The presence of the Lord Most High, Sent thither by the sons of earth, to win Some answer to their cry. “The Earth, say’st thou? The Human race? By Me created? Sad its lot? Nay: I have no remembrance of such place: Such world I fashioned not.” […]...
10. What Forgotten Realm? Let me introduce to you My poetry: it’s an island flying From book to book Searching for The page where it was born, Then stops at my house, both wings wounded, For its meals of flesh and cold phrases. I paid dearly for the poem’s visit! My best words lie down to sleep in the […]...
11. Forgotten Language Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understood each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings, And shared a conversation with the housefly In my bed. Once I heard and answered all the questions Of the crickets, And joined the crying of each falling […]...
12. Forgotten Master As you gaze beyond the bay With such wanness in your eyes, You who have out-stayed your day, Seeing other stars arise, Slender though your lifehold be, Still you dream beside the sea. We, alas! may live too long, Know the best part of us die; Echo of your even-song Hushes down the darkling sky. […]...
13. He Remembers Forgotten Beauty When my arms wrap you round I press My heart upon the loveliness That has long faded from the world; The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled In shadowy pools, when armies fled; The love-tales wrought with silken thread By dreaming ladies upon cloth That has made fat the murderous moth; The roses that of […]...
14. If You Forget Me I want you to know One thing. You know how this is: If I look At the crystal moon, at the red branch Of the slow autumn at my window, If I touch Near the fire The impalpable ash Or the wrinkled body of the log, Everything carries me to you, As if everything that […]...
15. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
16. Parting AS from our dream we died away Far off I felt the outer things; Your wind-blown tresses round me play, Your bosom’s gentle murmurings. And far away our faces met As on the verge of the vast spheres; And in the night our cheeks were wet, I could not say with dew or tears. As […]...
17. Colors Passing Through Us Purple as tulips in May, mauve Into lush velvet, purple As the stain blackberries leave On the lips, on the hands, The purple of ripe grapes Sunlit and warm as flesh. Every day I will give you a color, Like a new flower in a bud vase On your desk. Every day I will paint […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. The Gardener XX: Day After Day He Comes Day after day he comes and goes Away. Go, and give him a flower from my Hair, my friend. If he asks who was it that sent it, I Entreat you do not tell him my name For he only comes and goes away. He sits on the dust under the tree. Spread there a […]...
20. My young son asks me My young son asks me: Must I learn mathematics? What is the use, I feel like saying. That two pieces Of bread are more than one’s about all you’ll end up with. My young son asks me: Must I learn French? What is the use, I feel like saying. This State’s collapsing. And if you […]...
21. On Growing Old Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying; My dog and I are old, too old for roving. Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying, Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving. I take the book and gather to the fire, Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute The clock […]...
22. Of Clementina In Clementina’s artless mien Lucilla asks me what I see, And are the roses of sixteen Enough for me? Lucilla asks, if that be all, Have I not cull’d as sweet before: Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall I still deplore. I now behold another scene, Where Pleasure beams with Heaven’s own light, More pure, […]...
23. 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 […]...
24. Water Lilies If you have forgotten water lilies floating On a dark lake among mountains in the afternoon shade, If you have forgotten their wet, sleepy fragrance, Then you can return and not be afraid. But if you remember, then turn away forever To the plains and the prairies where pools are far apart, There you will […]...
25. Itylus Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow, How can thine heart be full of the spring? A thousand summers are over and dead. What hast thou found in the spring to follow? What hast thou found in thine heart to sing? What wilt thou do when the summer is shed? O swallow, sister, O fair swift […]...
26. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
27. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
28. Length of Moon Then the golden hour Will tick its last And the flame will go down in the flower. A briefer length of moon Will mark the sea-line and the yellow dune. Then we may think of this, yet There will be something forgotten And something we should forget. It will be like all things we know: […]...
29. In Back Of The Real railroad yard in San Jose I wandered desolate In front of a tank factory and sat on a bench Near the switchman’s shack. A flower lay on the hay on the asphalt highway the dread hay flower I thought It had a Brittle black stem and corolla of yellowish dirty Spikes like Jesus’ inchlong crown, […]...
30. Dust When the white flame in us is gone, And we that lost the world’s delight Stiffen in darkness, left alone To crumble in our separate night; When your swift hair is quiet in death, And through the lips corruption thrust Has stilled the labour of my breath When we are dust, when we are dust! […]...
31. Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty The sovereign beauty which I do admire, Witness the world how worthy to be praised: The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised; That being now with her huge brightness dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view; But looking still on her, I stand […]...
32. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
33. Who Goes Amid the Green Wood Who goes amid the green wood With springtide all adorning her? Who goes amid the merry green wood To make it merrier? Who passes in the sunlight By ways that know the light footfall? Who passes in the sweet sunlight With mien so virginal? The ways of all the woodland Gleam with a soft and […]...
34. The Cap And Bells The jester walked in the garden: The garden had fallen still; He bade his soul rise upward And stand on her window-sill. It rose in a straight blue garment, When owls began to call: It had grown wise-tongued by thinking Of a quiet and light footfall; But the young queen would not listen; She rose […]...
35. A Birthday Song. To S. G For ever wave, for ever float and shine Before my yearning eyes, oh! dream of mine Wherein I dreamed that time was like a vine, A creeping rose, that clomb a height of dread Out of the sea of Birth, all filled with dead, Up to the brilliant cloud of Death o’erhead. This vine bore […]...
36. "In White": Frost's Early Version Of Design A dented spider like a snow drop white On a white Heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of lifeless satin cloth – Saw ever curious eye so strange a sight? – Portent in little, assorted death and blight Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth? – The beady spider, the flower like […]...
37. Design I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth, And dead wings […]...
38. Are You Drinking? washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook out again I write from the bed as I did last year. will see the doctor, Monday. “yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head- aches and my back hurts.” “are you drinking?” he will ask. “are you getting your Exercise, your vitamins?” I think that I am just ill […]...
39. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE ‘Tis not ev’ry day that I Fitted am to prophesy: No, but when the spirit fills The fantastic pannicles, Full of fire, then I write As the Godhead doth indite. Thus enraged, my lines are hurl’d, Like the Sibyl’s, through the world: Look how next the holy fire Either slakes, or doth retire; So the […]...
40. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...