Barnacles

Related poetry:

1. To the River Charles River! that in silence windest Through the meadows, bright and free, Till at length thy rest thou findest In the bosom of the sea! Four long years of mingled feeling, Half in rest, and half in strife, I have seen thy waters stealing Onward, like the stream of life. Thou hast taught me, Silent River! […]...
2. O Living Always-Always Dying O LIVING always-always dying! O the burials of me, past and present! O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever! O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not-I am content;) O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look at, where I cast […]...
3. Colonel Martin I The Colonel went out sailing, He spoke with Turk and Jew, With Christian and with Infidel, For all tongues he knew. ‘O what’s a wifeless man?’ said he, And he came sailing home. He rose the latch and went upstairs And found an empty room. The Colonel went out sailing. II ‘I kept her […]...
4. In Sark Abreast and ahead of the sea is a crag’s front cloven asunder With strong sea-breach and with wasting of winds whence terror is Shed As a shadow of death from the wings of the darkness on waters that Thunder Abreast and ahead. At its edge is a sepulchre hollowed and hewn for a lone man’s […]...
5. Grace My stock lies dead and no increase Doth my dull husbandry improve: O let thy graces without cease Drop from above! If still the sun should hide his face, Thy house would but a dungeon prove, Thy works, night’s captives: O let grace Drop from above! The dew doth ev’ry morning fall; And shall the […]...
6. UPON THE DETRACTER I ask’d thee oft what poets thou hast read, And lik’st the best? Still thou repli’st, The dead. I shall, ere long, with green turfs cover’d be; Then sure thou’lt like, or thou wilt envy, me....
7. Ocean of Forms I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms, Hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless. No more sailing from harbor to harbor with this my weather-beaten boat. The days are long passed when my sport was to be tossed on waves. And now I am eager to die into the […]...
8. William Jones Once in a while a curious weed unknown to me, Needing a name from my books; Once in a while a letter from Yeomans. Out of the mussel-shells gathered along the shore Sometimes a pearl with a glint like meadow rue: Then betimes a letter from Tyndall in England, Stamped with the stamp of Spoon […]...
9. As far as your Rifles Cover Do you think, you slaves of a thousand years to poverty, wealth and pride, You can crush the spirit that has been free in a land that’s new and wide? When you’ve scattered the last of the farmer bands, and the war for a while is over, You will hold the land – ay, you’ll […]...
10. Opifex As I was carving images from clouds, And tinting them with soft ethereal dyes Pressed from the pulp of dreams, one comes, and cries: “Forbear!” and all my heaven with gloom enshrouds. “Forbear!” Thou hast no tools wherewith to essay The delicate waves of that elusive grain: Wouldst have due recompense of vulgar pain? The […]...
11. The Three Enemies THE FLESH “Sweet, thou art pale.” “More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore His Father’s wrath for me.” “Sweet, thou art sad.” “Beneath a rod More heavy, Christ for my sake trod The winepress of the wrath of God.” “Sweet, thou art weary.” “Not so Christ: Whose mighty love of […]...
12. A Psalm of Life WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust […]...
13. We Cover Thee Sweet Face We Cover Thee Sweet Face Not that We tire of Thee But that Thyself fatigue of Us Remember as Thou go We follow Thee until Thou notice Us no more And then reluctant turn away To Con Thee o’er and o’er And blame the scanty love We were Content to show Augmented Sweet a Hundred […]...
14. Sleep In the night of weariness Let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, Resting my trust upon thee. Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for thy worship. It is thou who drawest the veil of night upon the tired eyes of the day To renew its sight in a […]...
15. In My Solitary Hours in My Dear Husband his Absence O Lord, Thou hear’st my daily moan And see’st my dropping tears. My troubles all are Thee before, My longings and my fears. Thou hitherto hast been my God; Thy help my soul hath found. Though loss and sickness me assailed, Through Thee I’ve kept my ground. And Thy abode Thou’st made with me; With […]...
16. London, 1802 Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give […]...
17. Or from that Sea of Time 1 OR, from that Sea of Time, Spray, blown by the wind-a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells; (O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless! Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held, Murmurs and echoes still bring up-Eternity’s music, faint and far, Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica’s rim-strains for the […]...
18. Psalm 88 Lord God that dost me save and keep, All day to thee I cry; And all night long, before thee weep Before thee prostrate lie. Into thy presence let my praier With sighs devout ascend And to my cries, that ceaseless are, Thine ear with favour bend. For cloy’d with woes and trouble store Surcharg’d […]...
19. I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night, The sweep of each sad lost wave, The dwindling boom of the steel thing’s striving, The little cry of a man to a man, A shadow falling across the greyer night, And the sinking of the small star; Then the waste, the far waste of […]...
20. The Flea Mark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deny’st me is; It sucked me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; Thou know’st that this cannot be said A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead; Yet this enjoys before it woo, And […]...
21. Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must low And soonest […]...
22. One-word garments Waves of circumflexes Storms of adverbs, Windmills of verbs, Shells of signs of ellipsis, On the island of poems Of soul, Of mind, Of thought, One-word garments You wear To endure!...
23. Not Heat Flames up and Consumes NOT heat flames up and consumes, Not sea-waves hurry in and out, Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe summer, bears lightly along white down-balls of myriads of seeds, Wafted, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may; Not these-O none of these, more than the flames of me, consuming, burning for […]...
24. Introductory Verses Oh, you who read some song that I have sung – What know you of the soul from whence it sprung? Dost dream the poet ever speaks aloud His secret thought unto the listening crowd? Go take the murmuring sea-shell from the shore- You have its shape, its colour – and no more. It tells […]...
25. To a Friend Go, then, and join the murmuring city’s throng! Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears; To busy phantasies, and boding fears, Lest ill betide thee; but ‘t will not be long Ere the hard season shall be past; till then Live happy; sometimes the forsaken shade Remembering, and these trees now left to fade; […]...
26. Deliverance from a Fit of Fainting Worthy art Thou, O Lord, of praise, But ah! It’s not in me. My sinking heart I pray Thee raise So shall I give it Thee. My life as spider’s webb’s cut off, Thus fainting have I said, And living man no more shall see But be in silence laid. My feeble spirit Thou didst […]...
27. SHE CANNOT END WHEN unto thee I sent the page all white, Instead of first thereon inscribing aught, The space thou doubtless filledst up in sport. And sent it me, to make my joy grow bright. As soon as the blue cover met my sight, As well becomes a woman, quick as thought I tore it open, leaving […]...
28. My Lute Awake My lute awake! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is sung and past, My lute be still, for I have done. As to be heard where ear is none, As lead to grave in marble stone, My song may pierce […]...
29. The Pauper's Funeral What! and not one to heave the pious sigh! Not one whose sorrow-swoln and aching eye For social scenes, for life’s endearments fled, Shall drop a tear and dwell upon the dead! Poor wretched Outcast! I will weep for thee, And sorrow for forlorn humanity. Yes I will weep, but not that thou art come […]...
30. Prayer of Columbus A BATTER’D, wreck’d old man, Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home, Pent by the sea, and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary months, Sore, stiff with many toils, sicken’d, and nigh to death, I take my way along the island’s edge, Venting a heavy heart. I am too full of woe! Haply, I […]...
31. East London ‘Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through his windows seen In Spitalfields, looked thrice dispirited. I met a preacher there I knew, and said: “Ill and o’erworked, how fare you in this scene?”- “Bravely!” said he; “for I of late have been […]...
32. Broken Love MY Spectre around me night and day Like a wild beast guards my way; My Emanation far within Weeps incessantly for my sin. ‘A fathomless and boundless deep, There we wander, there we weep; On the hungry craving wind My Spectre follows thee behind. ‘He scents thy footsteps in the snow Wheresoever thou dost go, […]...
33. TO THE HUSBANDMAN SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover’d; Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last. Joyously plough’d and sow’d! Here food all living is budding, E’en from the side of the tomb Hope will not vanish away. 1789.*...
34. Old Song Re-Sung I saw three ships a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea, The first her masts were silver, Her hull was ivory. The snows came drifting softly, And lined her white as wool; Oh, Jesus, Son of Mary, Thy Cradle beautiful! I saw three ships a-sailing, The next was red as blood, Her decks shone like a ruby, […]...
35. A Valediction: Of Weeping Let me pour forth My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here, For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear, And by this mintage they are something worth, For thus they be Pregnant of thee; Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more; When a tear falls that, thou falls which […]...
36. Sonnet XLVIII: Cupid, I Hate Thee Cupid, I hate thee, which I’d have thee know; A naked starveling ever may’st thou be. Poor rogue, go pawn thy fascia and thy bow For some few rags wherewith to cover thee. Or, if thou’lt not, thy archery forbear, To some base rustic do thyself prefer, And when corn’s sown or grown into the […]...
37. Spirits Of The Dead Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness – for then The spirits of the dead, who stood In life before thee, are again In death around thee, […]...
38. The Settler 1903 (South African War ended, May, 1902) Here, where my fresh-turned furrows run, And the deep soil glistens red, I will repair the wrong that was done To the living and the dead. Here, where the senseless bullet fell, And the barren shrapnel burst, I will plant a tree, I will dig a well, Against […]...
39. Sonnet 19 – The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise XIX The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandise; I barter curl for curl upon that mart, And from my poet’s forehead to my heart Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,- As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . . The bay-crown’s […]...
40. Specula When He appoints to meet thee, go thou forth – It matters not If south or north, Bleak waste or sunny plot. Nor think, if haply He thou seek’st be late, He does thee wrong. To stile or gate Lean thou thy head, and long! It may be that to spy thee He is mounting […]...