The Raven Days

Related poetry:

1. The Raven Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door – Only this, […]...
2. The Rainy Day The day is cold, and dark, and dreary It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; […]...
3. Ashes Of Life Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike; Eat I must, and sleep I will,-and would that night were here! But ah!-to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike! Would that it were day again!-with twilight near! Love has gone and left me and I don’t know what to do; […]...
4. Has Sorrow Thy Young Days Shaded Has sorrow thy young days shaded, As clouds o’er the morning fleet? Too fast have those young days faded That, even in sorrow, were sweet? Does Time with his cold wing wither Each feeling that once was dear? Then, child of misfortune, come hither, I’ll weep with thee, tear for tear. Has love to that […]...
5. The Days that we can spare The Days that we can spare Are those a Function die Or Friend or Nature stranded then In our Economy Our Estimates a Scheme Our Ultimates a Sham We let go all of Time without Arithmetic of him...
6. There are Days There are days when One should be able To pluck off one’s head Like a dented or worn Helmet, straight from The nape and collarbone (those crackling branches!) And place it firmly down In the bed of a flowing stream. Clear, clean, chill currents Coursing and spuming through The sour and stale compartments Of the […]...
7. Days Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, And marching single in an endless file, Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. To each they offer gifts after his will, Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, Forgot my morning wishes, […]...
8. Through These Pale Cold Days Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows Like waifs their spirits grope For the pools of Hebron again For Lebanon’s summer slope. They leave these blond still days In dust behind their tread They see with living eyes How […]...
9. The best days of my life What is it about Bryan Adams and his song ‘Summer of 69’? Why do the lyrics linger? Was it 90° in the shade and the harbinger of the end Of the golden weather, or the impending closure Of a glorious decade? He should have called it ‘The best days of my life’, it would have […]...
10. Golden Days Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That done, I shall not see again Until the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turn The pages of that […]...
11. To Reformers in Despair ‘Tis not too late to build our young land right, Cleaner than Holland, courtlier than Japan, Devout like early Rome, with hearths like hers, Hearths that will recreate the breed called man....
12. In The Days When The World Was Wide The world is narrow and ways are short, and our lives are dull and slow, For little is new where the crowds resort, and less where the wanderers go; Greater, or smaller, the same old things we see by the dull road-side And tired of all is the spirit that sings Of the days when […]...
13. The Black Birds I Once, only once, I saw it clear, That Eden every human heart has dreamed A hundred times, but always far away! Ah, well do I remember how it seemed, Through the still atmosphere Of that enchanted day, To lie wide open to my weary feet: A little land of love and joy and rest, […]...
14. THE DAYS GO BY for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want to, want to throw It away like an old worn-out cloak Or screw up like a ball of over-written Trash and toss into the corner bin. I said it must come up or out I […]...
15. The Lost Friend The people take the thing of course, They marvel not to see This strange, unnatural divorce Betwixt delight and me. I know the face of sorrow, and I know Her voice with all its varied cadences; Which way she turns and treads; how at her ease Things fit her dreary largess to bestow. Where sorrow […]...
16. The Gardener XXVII: Trust Love “Trust love even if it brings sorrow. Do not close up your heart.” “Ah no, my friend, your words are Dark, I cannot understand them.” “Pleasure is frail like a dewdrop, While it laughs it dies. But sorrow is Strong and abiding. Let sorrowful Love wake in your eyes.” “Ah no, my friend, your words […]...
17. A shady friend for Torrid days A shady friend for Torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For Frigid hour of Mind The Vane a little to the East Scares Muslin souls away If Broadcloth Hearts are firmer Than those of Organdy Who is to blame? The Weaver? Ah, the bewildering thread! The Tapestries of Paradise So […]...
18. Days What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days? Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields....
19. In Three Days I. So, I shall see her in three days And just one night, but nights are short, Then two long hours, and that is morn. See how I come, unchanged, unworn! Feel, where my life broke off from thine, How fresh the splinters keep and fine, – Only a touch and we combine! II. Too […]...
20. An Angel in the House How sweet it were, if without feeble fright, Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight, An angel came to us, and we could bear To see him issue from the silent air At evening in our room, and bend on ours His divine eyes, and bring us from his bowers News of dear friends, and […]...
21. March Evening Blue through the window burns the twilight; Heavy, through trees, blows the warm south wind. Glistening, against the chill, gray sky light, Wet, black branches are barred and entwined. Sodden and spongy, the scarce-green grass plot Dents into pools where a foot has been. Puddles lie spilt in the road a mass, not Of water, […]...
22. Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days FEAR not, dear friend, but freely live your days Though lesser lives should suffer. Such am I, A lesser life, that what is his of sky Gladly would give for you, and what of praise. Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways. We that have touched your raiment, are made whole From all the selfish […]...
23. These are the days when Birds come back These are the days when Birds come back A very few a Bird or two To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old old sophistries of June A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief. Till ranks of seeds […]...
24. Son-Days 1 Bright shadows of true Rest! some shoots of bliss, Heaven once a week; The next world’s gladness prepossest in this; A day to seek; Eternity in time; the steps by which We Climb above all ages; Lamps that light Man through his heap of dark days; and the rich, And full redemption of the […]...
25. Let Erin Remember the Days of Old Let Erin remember the days of old, Ere her faithless sons betray’d her; When Malachi wore the collar of gold, Which he won from her proud invader, When her kings, with standard of green unfurl’d, Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger! Ere the emerald gem of the western world Was set in the crown of […]...
26. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
27. A Valentine Sent to a friend who had complained that I was glad enough to see Him when he came, but didn’t seem to miss him if he stayed away. And cannot pleasures, while they last, Be actual unless, when past, They leave us shuddering and aghast, With anguish smarting? And cannot friends be firm and fast, […]...
28. In the Droving Days “Only a pound,” said the auctioneer, “Only a pound; and I’m standing here Selling this animal, gain or loss Only a pound for the drover’s horse? One of the sort that was ne’er afraid, One of the boys of the Old Brigade; Thoroughly honest and game, I’ll swear, Only a little the worse for wear; […]...
29. The Light of Other Days OFT, in the stilly night, Ere slumber’s chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears Of boyhood’s years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm’d and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber’s chain […]...
30. Opposition Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill, Complain no more; for these, O heart, Direct the random of the will As rhymes direct the rage of art. The lute’s fixt fret, that runs athwart The strain and purpose of the string, For governance and nice consort Doth bar his wilful wavering. The dark hath […]...
31. There Were Dry Red Days by Sharmagne Leland-St. John There were dry red days Devoid of clouds Devoid of breeze Sound bruised My burning bones Dirt cracked my hands And caked my cheeks No buds on limbs of trees No birds on branches No hope of rain Scrawny chickens Kicked up dust Scratching for food That wasn’t there In the […]...
32. Variations of Greek Themes I A HAPPY MAN (Carphyllides) When these graven lines you see, Traveler, do not pity me; Though I be among the dead, Let no mournful word be said. Children that I leave behind, And their children, all were kind; Near to them and to my wife, I was happy all my life. My three sons […]...
33. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
34. Silence and Stealth of Days Silence, and stealth of days! ’tis now Since thou art gone, Twelve hundred hours, and not a brow But clouds hang on. As he that in some cave’s thick damp Lockt from the light, Fixeth a solitary lamp, To brave the night, And walking from his sun, when past That glim’ring ray Cuts through the […]...
35. Sorrow's Uses The uses of sorrow I comprehend Better and better at each year’s end. Deeper and deeper I seem to see Why and wherefore it has to be Only after the dark, wet days Do we fully rejoice in the sun’s bright rays. Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast Than the sated gourmand’s finest repast. […]...
36. Days I am a Day. . . My sky is grey, My wind is wild, My sea high-piled: In year of days the first In misery. . . Oh pity me! I am a Day Accurst. “Sweet Day, not curst but blest: Behold upon my breast My baby born Your early morn. Safe in my arms […]...
37. Danny Deever “What are the bugles blowin’ for?” said Files-on-Parade. “To turn you out, to turn you out”, the Colour-Sergeant said. “What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade. “I’m dreadin’ what I’ve got to watch”, the Colour-Sergeant said. For they’re hangin’ Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, The regiment’s in ‘ollow […]...
38. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
39. The Undertaker's Horse The eldest son bestrides him, And the pretty daughter rides him, And I meet him oft o’ mornings on the Course; And there kindles in my bosom An emotion chill and gruesome As I canter past the Undertaker’s Horse. Neither shies he nor is restive, But a hideously suggestive Trot, professional and placid, he affects; […]...
40. THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS L’eternite est une pendule, dont le balancier dit et redit sans Cesse ces deux mots seulement dans le silence des tombeaux: “Toujours! jamais! Jamais! toujours!” JACQUES BRIDAINE. Somewhat back from the village street Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. Across its antique portico Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw; And from its station in the hall An ancient […]...