Mossbawn: Two Poems in Dedication

Related poetry:

1. Dedication To M Swing of the heart. O firmly hung, fastened on what Invisible branch. Who, who gave you the push, That you swung with me into the leaves? How near I was to the exquisite fruits. But not-staying Is the essence of this motion. Only the nearness, only Toward the forever-too-high, all at once the possible Nearness. […]...
2. As The Poems Go as the poems go into the thousands you Realize that you’ve created very Little. It comes down to the rain, the sunlight, The traffic, the nights and the days of the Years, the faces. Leaving this will be easier than living It, typing one more line now as A man plays a piano through the […]...
3. The Song Of The Old Mother I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow; And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till stars are beginning to blink and peep; And the young lie long and dream in their bed Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head, […]...
4. Dedication To Joseph Mazzini Take, since you bade it should bear, These, of the seed of your sowing, Blossom or berry or weed. Sweet though they be not, or fair, That the dew of your word kept growing, Sweet at least was the seed. Men bring you love-offerings of tears, And sorrow the kiss that assuages, And slaves the […]...
5. 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 […]...
6. Two spanish poems (a) orihuela-time The sun in orihuela calms the dust And people glide about the streets at ease (problems left indoors to cool themselves) Time has grown fat and no one cares To pin each minute to its proper place The day is long tomorrow’s not yet real Doves and old men occupy the squares Nattering […]...
7. DEDICATION The morn arrived; his footstep quickly scared The gentle sleep that round my senses clung, And I, awak’ning, from my cottage fared, And up the mountain side with light heart sprung; At every step I felt my gaze ensnared By new-born flow’rs that full of dew-drops hung; The youthful day awoke with ecstacy, And all […]...
8. Dedication Dedication These to His Memory since he held them dear, Perchance as finding there unconsciously Some image of himself I dedicate, I dedicate, I consecrate with tears These Idylls. And indeed He seems to me Scarce other than my king’s ideal knight, ‘Who reverenced his conscience as his king; Whose glory was, redressing human wrong; […]...
9. 148. To Miss Logan, with Beattie's Poems AGAIN the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven, And you, tho’ scarce in maiden prime, Are so much nearer Heaven. No gifts have I from Indian coasts The infant year to hail; I send you more than India boasts, In Edwin’s simple tale. Our sex with guile, and faithless love, Is charg’d, […]...
10. The Norsemen ( From Narrative and Legendary Poems ) GIFT from the cold and silent Past! A relic to the present cast, Left on the ever-changing strand Of shifting and unstable sand, Which wastes beneath the steady chime And beating of the waves of Time! Who from its bed of primal rock First wrenched thy dark, unshapely block? Whose hand, of curious skill untaught, […]...
11. 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 […]...
12. Dedication You whom I could not save Listen to me. Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another. I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words. I speak to you with silence like a cloud or a tree. What strengthened me, for you was lethal. You mixed up farewell […]...
13. Soldier, Soldier “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, Why don’t you march with my true love?” “We’re fresh from off the ship an’ ‘e’s maybe give the slip, An’ you’d best go look for a new love.” New love! True love! Best go look for a new love, The dead they cannot rise, an’ you’d better dry […]...
14. Circle and Square ‘I give you half of me; No more, lest I should make A ground for perjury. For your sake, for my sake, Half will you take?’ ‘Half I’ll not take nor give, For he who gives gives all. By halves you cannot live; Then let the barrier fall, In one circle have all.’ “A wise […]...
15. Dedication To A Book Of Stories Selected From The Irish Novelists There was a green branch hung with many a bell When her own people ruled this tragic Eire; And from its murmuring greenness, calm of Faery, A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell. It charmed away the merchant from his guile, And turned the farmer’s memory from his cattle, And hushed in sleep the roaring […]...
16. Dedication For A Plot Of Ground This plot of ground Facing the waters of this inlet Is dedicated to the living presence of Emily Dickinson Wellcome Who was born in England; married; Lost her husband and with Her five year old son Sailed for New York in a two-master; Was driven to the Azores; Ran adrift on Fire Island shoal, Met […]...
17. Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet II Why dost thou beat thy breast and rend thine hair, And to the deaf sea pour thy frantic cries? Before the gale the laden vessel flies; The Heavens all-favoring smile, the breeze is fair; Hark to the clamors of the exulting crew! Hark how their thunders mock the patient skies! Why dost thou shriek and […]...
18. WANTS POEMS AND HAS NEVER REJECTED ANYONE Eamer o’ Keefe with your tinge of brogue And Irish warmth, Daisy and Debjani With your karma and cool verse, I salute you. ( III ) “Ecoutez la voix du vent” – listen to the wind’s voice As Milosz commands “All your griefs, My sad ones, are in vain” but offering In recompense soaring sonatas […]...
19. Poems Done on a Late Night Car I. CHICKENS I am The Great White Way of the city: When you ask what is my desire, I answer: “Girls fresh as country wild flowers, With young faces tired of the cows and barns, Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries, Slender supple girls with shapely legs, Lure in the […]...
20. Two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock Whose hands were drier than deserts The sea’s voice drove fear up through the valley The tributaries meandering inside me longing for outlet Shrivelled even as their own courses became straight My demand for ocean died now the ocean approached The clouds put […]...
21. 113. A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq EXPECT na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble bluid, Because ye’re surnam’d like His Grace- Perhaps related to the race: Then, when I’m tir’d-and sae are ye, Wi’ mony a fulsome, sinfu’ lie, Set up a face how I […]...
22. On The Grasshopper And Cricket The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the Grasshopper’s-he takes the lead In summer luxury,-he has never done With his delights; for when tired out with […]...
23. To Stella, Who Collected and Transcribed His Poems As, when a lofty pile is raised, We never hear the workmen praised, Who bring the lime, or place the stones; But all admire Inigo Jones: So, if this pile of scattered rhymes Should be approved in aftertimes; If it both pleases and endures, The merit and the praise are yours. Thou, Stella, wert no […]...
24. I've Never Had It Done So Gently Before The sweet juices of your mouth Are like castles bathed in honey. I’ve never had it done so gently before. You have put a circle of castles Around my penis and you swirl them Like sunlight on the wings of birds....
25. To The Stone-Cutters Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated Challengers of oblivion Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down, The square-limbed Roman letters Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well Builds his monument mockingly; For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun Die blind and […]...
26. Poems to Mulgrave and Scroope Deare Friend. I heare this Towne does soe abound, With sawcy Censurers, that faults are found, With what of late wee (in Poetique Rage) Bestowing, threw away on the dull Age; But (howsoe’re Envy, their Spleen may raise, To Robb my Brow, of the deserved Bays) Their thanks at least I merit since through me, […]...
27. Reading An Anthology Of Chinese Poems Of The Sung Dynasty, I Pause To Admire The Length And Clarity Of Their Titles It seems these poets have nothing Up their ample sleeves They turn over so many cards so early, Telling us before the first line Whether it is wet or dry, Night or day, the season the man is standing in, Even how much he has had to drink. Maybe it is autumn and he is […]...
28. Dedication I have great faith in all things not yet spoken. I want my deepest pious feelings freed. What no one yet has dared to risk and warrant Will be for me a challenge I must meet. If this presumptious seems, God, may I be forgiven. For what I want to say to you is this: […]...
29. A Dedication They are rhymes rudely strung with intent less Of sound than of words, In lands where bright blossoms are scentless, And songless bright birds; Where, with fire and fierce drought on her tresses, Insatiable Summer oppresses Sere woodlands and sad wildernesses, And faint flocks and herds. Where in drieariest days, when all dews end, And […]...
30. Dedication In youth I longed to paint The loveliness I saw; And yet by dire constraint I had to study Law. But now all that is past, And I have no regret, For I am free at last Law to forget. To beauty newly born With brush and tube I play; And though my daubs you […]...
31. Dedication To W. R. B. And so, to you, who always were Perseus, D’Artagnan, Lancelot To me, I give these weedy rhymes In memory of earlier times. Now all those careless days are not. Of all my heroes, you endure. Words are such silly things! too rough, Too smooth, they boil up or congeal, And neither […]...
32. Dedication for Moremi, 1963 Earth will not share the rafter’s envy; dung floors Break, not the gecko’s slight skin, but its fall Taste this soil for death and plumb her deep for life As this yam, wholly earthed, yet a living tuber To the warmth of waters, earthed as springs As roots of baobab, as the […]...
33. Dedication To the City of Bombay The Cities are full of pride, Challenging each to each This from her mountain-side, That from her burthened beach. They count their ships full tale Their corn and oil and wine, Derrick and loom and bale, And rampart’s gun-flecked line; City by City they hail: “Hast aught to match with […]...
34. Round-Pond Water ruffled and speckled by galloping wind Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breaks Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon sunlight. The shining of the sun upon the water Is like a scattering of gold crocus-petals In a long wavering irregular flight. The water is cold to the eye As the wind to the cheek. […]...
35. Dedication MY first gift and my last, to you I dedicate this fascicle of songs – The only wealth I have: Just as they are, to you. I speak the truth in soberness, and say I had rather bring a light to your clear eyes, Had rather hear you praise This bosomful of songs Than that […]...
36. Dedication Inscribed to a Dear Child: In Memory of Golden Summer Hours And Whispers of a Summer Sea Girt with a boyish garb for boyish task, Eager she wields her spade: yet loves as well Rest on a friendly knee, intent to ask The tale he loves to tell. Rude spirits of the seething outer strife, […]...
37. R. T. S. L. (1917-1977) As for that other thing Which comes when the eyelid is glazed And the wax gleam From the unwrinkled forehead Asks no more questions Of the dry mouth, Whether they open the heart like a shirt To release a rage of swallows, Whether the brain Is a library for worms, On the instant of that […]...
38. Telephoning In Mexican Sunlight Talking with my beloved in New York I stood at the outdoor public telephone In Mexican sunlight, in my purple shirt. Someone had called it a man/woman Shirt. The phrase irked me. But then I remembered that Rainer Maria Rilke, who until he was seven wore Dresses and had long yellow hair, Wrote that the […]...
39. Dedication To Providence I loved to toy with tuneful rhyme, My fancies into verse to weave; For as I walked my words would chime So bell-like I could scarce believe; My rhymes rippled like a brook, My stanzas bloomed like blossoms gay: And that is why I dream this book A verseman’s holiday. The palm-blades brindle in the […]...
40. Dedication for a House We, who were long together homeless, raise Brick walls, wood floors, a roof, and windows up To what sustained us in those threatening days Unto this end. Alas, that this bright cup Be empty of the care and life of him Who should have made it overflow its brim....