Song-Books of the War

Related poetry:

1. The Haymakers' Song HERE’S to him that grows it, Drink, lads, drink! That lays it in and mows it, Clink, jugs, clink! To him that mows and makes it, That scatters it and shakes it, That turns, and teds, and rakes it, Clink, jugs, clink! Now here ‘s to him that stacks it, Drink, lads, drink! That thrashes […]...
2. 191. Song-Theniel Menzies' Bonie Mary IN comin by the brig o’ Dye, At Darlet we a blink did tarry; As day was dawnin in the sky, We drank a health to bonie Mary. Chorus.-Theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary, Theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary, Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie, Kissin’ Theniel’s bonie Mary. Her een sae bright, her brow sae white, Her haffet […]...
3. Dream Song 104: Welcome, grinned Henry, welcome, fifty-one! Welcome, grinned Henry, welcome, fifty-one! I never cared for fifty, when nothing got done. The hospitals were fun In certain ways, and an honour or so, But on the whole fifty was a mess as though Heavy clubs from below And from—God save the bloody mark—above Were loosed upon his skull & soles. O love, […]...
4. Dream Song 134: Sick at 6 & sick again at 9 Sick at 6 & sick again at 9 Was Henry’s gloomy Monday morning oh. Still he had to lecture. They waited, his little children, for stricken Henry To rise up yet once more again and come oh. They figured he was a fixture, Nuts to their bolds, keys to their bloody locks. One day the […]...
5. The Lads in Their Hundreds The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair, There’s men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold, The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there, And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old. There’s chaps from […]...
6. 366. Song-The weary Pund o' Tow Chorus.-The weary pund, the weary pund, The weary pund o’ tow; I think my wife will end her life, Before she spin her tow. I BOUGHT my wife a stane o’ lint, As gude as e’er did grow, And a’ that she has made o’ that Is ae puir pund o’ tow. The weary pund, […]...
7. The Song Of Wandering Aengus I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. […]...
8. 491. Song-Lassie wi' the Lint-white Locks Chorus.-Lassie wi’the lint-white locks, Bonie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks, Wilt thou be my Dearie, O? NOW Nature cleeds the flowery lea, And a’ is young and sweet like thee, O wilt thou share its joys wi’ me, And say thou’lt be my Dearie, O. Lassie wi’ the, &c. The […]...
9. Dream Song 121: Grief is fatiguing. He is out of it Grief is fatiguing. He is out of it, The whole humiliating Human round, Out of this & that. He made a-many hearts go pit-a-pat Who now need never mind his nostril-hair Nor a critical error laid bare. He endured fifty years. He was Randall Jarrell And wrote a-many books & he wrote well. Peace to […]...
10. 373. Song-The Slave's Lament IT was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral, For the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O: Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more; And alas! I am weary, weary O: Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more; And alas! I am weary, weary O. All on […]...
11. An Indian Love Song He Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon Of thy glory and grace, Withhold not, O love, from the night Of my longing the joy of thy luminous face, Give me a spear of the scented keora Guarding thy pinioned curls, Or a silken thread from the fringes That trouble the dream of […]...
12. A Fountain, a Bottle, a Donkey's Ears, and Some Books Old Davis owned a solid mica mountain In Dalton that would someday make his fortune. There’d been some Boston people out to see it: And experts said that deep down in the mountain The mica sheets were big as plate-glass windows. He’d like to take me there and show it to me. “I’ll tell you […]...
13. Dream Song 56: Hell is empty. O that has come to pass Hell is empty. O that has come to pass Which the cut Alexandrian foresaw, And Hell is empty. Lightning fell silent where the Devil knelt And over the whole grave space hath settled awe In a full death of guilt. The tinchel closes. Terror, & plunging, swipes. I lay my ears back. I am about […]...
14. 1887 From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign returns And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills are bright, The dales are light between, Because ’tis fifty years to-night That God has saved the Queen. Now, when the flame they watch not […]...
15. 394. Song-Braw Lads o' Gala Water BRAW, braw lads on Yarrow-braes, They rove amang the blooming heather; But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws Can match the lads o’ Galla Water. But there is ane, a secret ane, Aboon them a’ I loe him better; And I’ll be his, and he’ll be mine, The bonie lad o’ Galla Water. Altho’ his daddie […]...
16. Song Of The Sardine A fat man sat in an orchestra stall and his cheeks were wet with tears, As he gazed at the primadonna tall, whom he hadn’t seen in years. “Oh don’t you remember” he murmured low “that Spring in Montparnasse, When hand in hand we used to go to our nightly singing class. Ah me those […]...
17. 462. Song-The Bannocks o' Bear Meal Chorus-Bannocks o’ bear meal, Bannocks o’ barley, Here’s to the Highlandman’s Bannocks o’ barley! WHA, in a brulyie, will First cry a parley? Never the lads wi’ the Bannocks o’ barley, Bannocks o’ bear meal, &c. Wha, in his wae days, Were loyal to Charlie? Wha but the lads wi’ the Bannocks o’ barley! Bannocks […]...
18. 271. Song-John Anderson, My Jo JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John, When we were first acquent; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And […]...
19. 289. Song-Awa', Whigs, Awa&#039 Chorus.-Awa’ Whigs, awa’! Awa’ Whigs, awa’! Ye’re but a pack o’ traitor louns, Ye’ll do nae gude at a’. OUR thrissles flourish’d fresh and fair, And bonie bloom’d our roses; But Whigs cam’ like a frost in June, An’ wither’d a’ our posies. Awa’ Whigs, &c. Our ancient crown’s fa’en in the dust- Deil blin’ […]...
20. Enemy Conscript What are we fighting for, We fellows who go to war? Fighting for Freedom’s sake! (You give me the belly-ache.) Freedom to starve or slave! Freedom! aye, in the grave. Fighting for “hearth and home,” Who haven’t an inch of loam? Hearth? Why even a byre Can only be ours for hire. Dying for future […]...
21. Even-song Blest be the God of love, Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day, Both to be busy, and to play. But much more blest be God above, Who gave me sight alone, Which to himself he did deny: For when he sees my ways, I die: But I have got his son, […]...
22. 349. Song-Kenmure's on and awa, Willie O KENMURE’S on and awa, Willie, O Kenmure’s on and awa: An’ Kenmure’s lord’s the bravest lord That ever Galloway saw. Success to Kenmure’s band, Willie! Success to Kenmure’s band! There’s no a heart that fears a Whig, That rides by kenmure’s hand. Here’s Kenmure’s health in wine, Willie! Here’s Kenmure’s health in wine! There’s […]...
23. My Hundred Books A thousand books my library Contains; And all are primed, it seems to me With brains. Mine are so few I scratch in thought My head; For just a hundred of the lot I’ve read. A hundred books, but of the best, I can With wisdom savour and digest And scan. Yet when afar from […]...
24. And Yet The Books And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings, That appeared once, still wet As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn, And, touched, coddled, began to live In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up, Tribes on the march, planets in motion. “We are, ” they said, even as […]...
25. His Books MY days among the Dead are past; Around me I behold, Where’er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe; And while I understand and feel How much to […]...
26. Unto my Books so good to turn Unto my Books so good to turn Far ends of tired Days It half endears the Abstinence And Pain is missed in Praise As Flavors cheer Retarded Guests With Banquettings to be So Spices stimulate the time Till my small Library It may be Wilderness without Far feet of failing Men But Holiday excludes the […]...
27. My Wars are laid away in Books My Wars are laid away in Books I have one Battle more A Foe whom I have never seen But oft has scanned me o’er And hesitated me between And others at my side, But chose the best Neglecting me till All the rest, have died How sweet if I am not forgot By Chums […]...
28. Madman's Song Better to see your cheek grown hollow, Better to see your temple worn, Than to forget to follow, follow, After the sound of a silver horn. Better to bind your brow with willow And follow, follow until you die, Than to sleep with your head on a golden pillow, Nor lift it up when the […]...
29. A Love Song Reject me not if I should say to you I do forget the sounding of your voice, I do forget your eyes that searching through The mists perceive our marriage, and rejoice. Yet, when the apple-blossom opens wide Under the pallid moonlight’s fingering, I see your blanched face at my breast, and hide My eyes […]...
30. Interior IN the cool of the night time The clocks pick off the points And the mainsprings loosen. They will need winding. One of these days… they will need winding. Rabelais in red boards, Walt Whitman in green, Hugo in ten-cent paper covers, Here they stand on shelves In the cool of the night time And […]...
31. The Land of Story-Books At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back. There, in the […]...
32. Picture-Books in Winter Summer fading, winter comes Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story-books. Water now is turned to stone Nurse and I can walk upon; Still we find the flowing brooks In the picture story-books. All the pretty things put by, Wait upon the children’s eye, Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, […]...
33. If I may have it, when it's dead If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented so If just as soon as Breath is out It shall belong to me Until they lock it in the Grave, ‘Tis Bliss I cannot weigh For tho’ they lock Thee in the Grave, Myself can own the key Think of it Lover! I […]...
34. The Rose of Midnight THE moon is now an opening flower, The sky a cliff of blue. The moon is now a silver rose; Her pollen is the dew. Her pollen is the mist that swings Across her face of dreams: Her pollen is the April rain, Filling the April streams. Her pollen is eternal life, Endless ambrosial foam. […]...
35. A Song Of A Young Lady To Her Ancient Lover Ancient Person, for whom I All the flattering youth defy, Long be it e’er thou grow old, Aching, shaking, crazy cold; But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind […]...
36. A Fragment of Seneca Translated After Death nothing is, and nothing, death, The utmost limit of a gasp of breath. Let the ambitious zealot lay aside His hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride; Let slavish souls lay by their fear Nor be concerned which way nor where After this life they shall be hurled. Dead, we become […]...
37. Hunted A few grains of dust more or less On ancient shoulders Locks of weakness on weary foreheads This theatre of honey and faded roses Where incalcuable flies Reply to the black signs that misery makes to them Despairing girders of a bridge Thrown across space Thrown across every street and every house Heavy wandering madnesses […]...
38. Children Selecting Books In A Library With beasts and gods, above, the wall is bright. The child’s head, bent to the book-colored shelves, Is slow and sidelong and food-gathering, Moving in blind grace… yet from the mural, Care The grey-eyed one, fishing the morning mist, Seizes the baby hero by the hair And whispers, in the tongue of gods and children, […]...
39. Bride Song From ‘The Prince’s Progress’ TOO late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late! You loiter’d on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate; The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate; Her heart was starving all this […]...
40. 158. Song-The Bonie Moor-hen THE HEATHER was blooming, the meadows were mawn, Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn, O’er moors and o’er mosses and mony a glen, At length they discover’d a bonie moor-hen. Chorus.-I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men, I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men; Take some on the […]...