Conscripts

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1. 1954 Then dirt scared me, because of the dirt He had put on her face. And her training bra Scared me-the newspapers, morning and evening, Kept saying it, training bra, As if the cups of it had been calling The breasts up-he buried her in it, Perhaps he had never bothered to take it Off. They […]...
2. Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms ‘Now Art has lost its mental charms France shall subdue the world in arms.’ So spoke an Angel at my birth; Then said ‘Descend thou upon earth, Renew the Arts on Britain’s shore, And France shall fall down and adore. With works of art their armies meet And War shall sink beneath thy feet. But […]...
3. A Triolet Of all the sickly forms of verse, Commend me to the triolet. It makes bad writers somewhat worse: Of all the sickly forms of verse, That fall beneath a reader’s curse, It is the feeblest jingle yet. Of all the sickly forms of verse, Commend me to the triolet....
4. The Tree In Pamela's Garden Pamela was too gentle to deceive Her roses. “Let the men stay where they are,” She said, “and if Apollo’s avatar Be one of them, I shall not have to grieve.” And so she made all Tilbury Town believe She sighed a little more for the North Star Than over men, and only in so […]...
5. Victor Hugo Heart of France for a hundred years, Passionate, sensitive, proud, and strong, Quick to throb with her hopes and fears, Fierce to flame with her sense of wrong! You, who hailed with a morning song Dream-light gilding a throne of old: You, who turned when the dream grew cold, Singing still, to the light that […]...
6. Jeanne d'Arc Returns 1914-1916 What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, To prove the pride of thine inheritance In this fair land of freedom and romance? I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife, Smiling against the swords that seek thy life, […]...
7. The Tramps Can you recall, dear comrade, when we tramped God’s land together, And we sang the old, old Earth-song, for our youth was very sweet; When we drank and fought and lusted, as we mocked at tie and tether, Along the road to Anywhere, the wide world at our feet Along the road to Anywhere, when […]...
8. The Source The sleep that flits on baby’s eyes-does anybody know from where It comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where, In the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with Glow-worms, there hang two shy buds of enchantment. From there it Comes to kiss baby’s eyes. The smile that […]...
9. Little Popeet – the Lost Child Near by the silent waters of the Mediterranean, And at the door of an old hut stood a coloured man, Whose dress was oriental in style and poor with wear, While adown his furrowed cheeks ran many a tear. And the poor coloured man seemed very discontent, And his grief overcame him at this moment; […]...
10. We May Roam Through This World We may roam through this world, like a child at a feast, Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest; And, when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east, We may order our wings and be off to the west: But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile, Are […]...
11. Never The Time And The Place Never the time and the place And the loved one all together! This path how soft to pace! This May what magic weather! Where is the loved one’s face? In a dream that loved one’s face meets mine, But the house is narrow, the place is bleak Where, outside, rain and wind combine With a […]...
12. Rosie Roberts I was sick, but more than that, I was mad At the crooked police, and the crooked game of life. So I wrote to the Chief of Police at Peoria: “I am here in my girlhood home in Spoon River, Gradually wasting away. But come and take me, I killed the son Of the merchant […]...
13. Awake To Smile When I blink sunshine in my eyes And hail the amber morn, Before the rosy dew-drop dries With sparkle on the thorn; When boughs with robin rapture ring, And bees hum in the may, Then call me young, with heart of Spring, Though I be grey. But when no more I know the joy And […]...
14. The Look The Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word, No gesture of reproach; the Heavens serene Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean Their thunders that way: the forsaken Lord Looked only, on the traitor. None record What that look was, none guess; for those who have seen Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen, […]...
15. 50. Another on the said Occasion ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell, When deprived of her husband she loved so well, In respect for the love and affection he show’d her, She reduc’d him to dust and she drank up the powder. But Queen Netherplace, of a diff’rent complexion, When called on to order the fun’ral direction, Would have eat […]...
16. An Old Story (Retold in Rhyme) They threw him in a prison cell; He moaned upon his bed. And when he crept from coils of hell: “Last night you killed,” they said. “last night in drunken rage you slew A being brave with breath; A radiant soul, because of you Lies dark in death.” “last night I killed,” […]...
17. The Last Post The bugler sent a call of high romance – “Lights out! Lights out!” to the deserted square. On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer, “God, if it’s this for me next time in France… O spare the phantom bugle as I lie Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns, Dead […]...
18. Memorial Tablet Squire nagged and bullied till I went to fight, (Under Lord Derby’s Scheme). I died in hell – (They called it Passchendaele). My wound was slight, And I was hobbling back; and then a shell Burst slick upon the duck-boards: so I fell Into the bottomless mud, and lost the light. At sermon-time, while Squire […]...
19. The Immortals I killed them, but they would not die. Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or sleep, Nor guard from them nor hide in flight. Then in my agony I turned And made my hands red in their gore. In vain – for faster than I slew They […]...
20. Innermost One He it is, the innermost one, Who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches. He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes And joyfully plays on the chords of my heart In varied cadence of pleasure and pain. He it is who weaves the web of this maya In evanescent hues of […]...
21. The King “Farewell, Romance!” the Cave-men said; “With bone well carved he went away, Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead, And jasper tips the spear to-day. Changed are the Gods of Hunt and Dance, And he with these. Farewell, Romance!” “Farewell, Romance!” the Lake-folk sighed; “We lift the weight of flatling years; The caverns of the mountain-side Hold […]...
22. The Weaver of Souls WHO is this unseen messenger For ever between me and her, Who brings love’s precious merchandise, The golden breath, the dew of sighs, And the wild, gentle thoughts that dwell Too fragile for the lips to tell, Each at their birth, to us before A heaving of the heart is o’er? Who art thou, unseen […]...
23. Om FAINT grew the yellow buds of light Far flickering beyond the snows, As leaning o’er the shadowy white Morn glimmered like a pale primrose. Within an Indian vale below A child said “OM” with tender heart, Watching with loving eyes the glow In dayshine fade and night depart. The word which Brahma at his dawn […]...
24. THE MAGIC WAND Bhaskar Roy Barman Once in my childhood I watched mesmerized a magician Magic everything away from before my eyes And thought he had descended, endowed with supernatural power, From a fairyland where illusions reigned supreme To transport us into the world of illusions. I got thrilled at the flying of a pigeon away From under […]...
25. A Walgett Episode The sun strikes down with a blinding glare; The skies are blue and the plains are wide, The saltbush plains that are burnt and bare By Walgett out on the Barwon side The Barwon River that wanders down In a leisurely manner by Walgett Town. There came a stranger a “Cockatoo” The word means farmer, […]...
26. Fair Elanor The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower; The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor Walk’d by the castle gate, and lookиd in. A hollow groan ran thro’ the dreary vaults. She shriek’d aloud, and sunk upon the steps, On the cold stone her pale cheeks. Sickly smells Of death issue as from […]...
27. Psalm 128 Family blessings. O happy man, whose soul is filled With zeal and reverent awe! His lips to God their honors yield, His life adorns the law. A careful providence shall stand And ever guard thy head, Shall on the labors of thy hand Its kindly blessings shed. [Thy wife shall be a fruitful vine; Thy […]...
28. To Lady Jane Romance was always young. You come today Just eight years old With marvellous dark hair. Younger than Dante found you When you turned His heart into the way That found the heavenly stair. Perhaps we must be strangers. I confess My soul this hour is Dante’s, And your care Should be for dolls Whose painted […]...
29. De Amicitiis Though care and strife Elsewhere be rife, Upon my word I do not heed ’em; In bed I lie With books hard by, And with increasing zest I read ’em. Propped up in bed, So much I’ve read Of musty tomes that I’ve a headful Of tales and rhymes Of ancient times, Which, wife declares, […]...
30. Vesta O CHRIST of God! whose life and death Our own have reconciled, Most quietly, most tenderly Take home thy star-named child! Thy grace is in her patient eyes, Thy words are on her tongue; The very silence round her seems As if the angels sung. Her smile is as a listening child’s Who hears its […]...
31. The Lowestoft Boat In Lowestoft a boat was laid, Mark well what I do say! And she was built for the herring-trade, But she has gone a-rovin’, a-rovin’, a-rovin’, The Lord knows where! They gave her Government coal to burn, And a Q. F. gun at bow and stern, And sent her out a-rovin’, etc. Her skipper was […]...
32. When I'm Killed When I’m killed, don’t think of me Buried there in Cambrin Wood, Nor as in Zion think of me With the Intolerable Good. And there’s one thing that I know well, I’m damned if I’ll be damned to Hell! So when I’m killed, don’t wait for me, Walking the dim corridor; In Heaven or Hell, […]...
33. Belfast Tune Here’s a girl from a dangerous town She crops her dark hair short so that less of her has to frown when someine gets hurt. She folds her memories like a parachute. Dropped, she collects the peat and cooks her veggies at home: they shoot here where they eat. Ah, there’s more sky in these […]...
34. Many Are Called The Lord Apollo, who has never died, Still holds alone his immemorial reign, Supreme in an impregnable domain That with his magic he has fortified; And though melodious multitudes have tried In ecstasy, in anguish, and in vain, With invocation sacred and profane To lure him, even the loudest are outside. Only at unconjectured intervals, […]...
35. 1991-I The year begins with war. Our bombs fall day and night, Hour after hour, by death Abroad appeasing wrath, Folly, and greed at home. Upon our giddy tower We’d oversway the world. Our hate comes down to kill Those whom we do not see, For we have given up Our sight to those in power […]...
36. The Two Streams Behold the rocky wall That down its sloping sides Pours the swift rain-drops, blending, as they fall, In rushing river-tides! Yon stream, whose sources run Turned by a pebble’s edge, Is Athabasca, rolling toward the sun Through the cleft mountain-ledge. The slender rill had strayed, But for the slanting stone, To evening’s ocean, with the […]...
37. Whence Cometh Such Tender Rapture? Whence cometh such tender rapture? Those curls they are not the first ones I’ve smoothened, and I’ve already Known lips that were darker than yours. The stars have risen and faded, Whence cometh such tender rapture? And eyes have risen and faded In face of these eyes of mine I’d never yet hearkened unto Such […]...
38. LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, ‘Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown; Still I write a sweet-heart down. Be she rough, or smooth of skin; When I touch, I then begin For to let affection in. Be she […]...
39. Fall Understand the language Of fall, approaching: Cold mornings Drawing your bundled warmth; Sailing-leaf afternoons, The enchantment of melancholy, Departure etched In the bronze of light Whispering with the wind; Its shimmering tones marking time Like the strike of a gong, Soft, yet insistent. (2000)...
40. The Yarn of the Loch Achray The Loch Achray was a clipper tall With seven-and-twenty hands in all. Twenty to hand and reef and haul, A skipper to sail and mates to bawl ‘Tally on to the tackle-fall, Heave now ‘n’ start her, heave ‘n’ pawl!’ Hear the yarn of a sailor, An old yarn learned at sea. Her crew were […]...