Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind

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1. A Time to Weep I suppose you could call me heartless As a dull anvil clanking in a sodden barn, The damp wood too lazy to echo your pain; And your limbs twisted like great roots, Your hearts rank melons bursting with fluid, Your tidal headaches, your equatorial fevers Were all grist for my scientific mill, My hands cold […]...
2. Weep On, Weep On Weep on, weep on, your hour is past, Your dreams of pride are o’er; The fatal chain is round you cast, And you are men no more. In vain the hero’s heart hath bled; The sage’s tongue hath warn’d in vain; Oh, Freedom! once thy flame hath fled, It never lights again! Weep on perhaps […]...
3. Oh! Weep for Those I. Oh! Weep for those that wept by Babel’s stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream, Weep for the harp of Judah’s broken shell Mourn where their God that dwelt the Godless dwell! II. And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? And when shall Zion’s songs agains seem sweet? And Judah’s melody […]...
4. And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low? And wilt thou weep when I am low? Sweet lady! speak those words again: Yet if they grieve thee, say not so – I would not give that bosom pain. My heart is sad, my hopes are gone, My blood runs coldly through my breast; And when I perish, thou alone Wilt sigh above my […]...
5. If I weep If I weep, if I come with excuses, my beloved puts cotton wool in his ears. Every cruelty which he commits becomes him, every cruelty which he commits I endure. If he accounts me nonexistent, I account his tyranny generosity. The cure of the ache of my heart is the ache for him; how shall […]...
6. Her Kind I have gone out, a possessed witch, Haunting the black air, braver at night; Dreaming evil, I have done my hitch Over the plain houses, light by light: Lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind. I have found the warm caves in […]...
7. Weep no more WEEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that ‘s gone: Violets pluck’d, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again. Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; Fate’s hid ends eyes cannot see. Joys as winged dreams fly fast, Why should sadness longer last? Grief is but a wound to woe;...
8. Piscine kind of kinship To glibly say that Joe was sort of odd Quite missed the point. Peculiar in many Ways and kind of weird, I would have Been afraid of him were I a child (if I ever Was a meek and mild retiring kid), avoided Him as if the plague. But he was good to Mutti, And […]...
9. What Kind Of A Person “What kind of a person are you,” I heard them say to me. I’m a person with a complex plumbing of the soul, Sophisticated instruments of feeling and a system Of controlled memory at the end of the twentieth century, But with an old body from ancient times And with a God even older than […]...
10. Mother's Loss If I could clasp my little babe Upon my breast to-night, I would not mind the blowing wind That shrieketh in affright. Oh, my lost babe! my little babe, My babe with dreamful eyes; Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold Shrieks woeful lullabies. My breast is softer than the sod; This room, with […]...
11. A few kind words A few kind words, what can be bought with that? In essence just a clique of tidy prose, A verb, a noun, perhaps an adjectival phrase Offered in the form of venal praise – and be surprised at what it buys. Like a fleeting smile it’s currency outweighs The simple form, a hint of urbane […]...
12. I Saw Thee Weep I saw thee weep – the big bright tear Came o’er that eye of blue; And then methought it did appear A violet dropping dew: I saw thee smile – the sapphire’s blaze Beside thee ceased to shine; It could not match the living rays That filled that glance of thine. As clouds from yonder […]...
13. Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying Poetry is a kind of lying, Necessarily. To profit the poet Or beauty. But also in That truth may be told only so. Those who, admirably, refuse To falsify (as those who will not Risk pretensions) are excluded From saying even so much. Degas said he didn’t paint What he saw, but what Would enable […]...
14. If Death Is Kind Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning, We will come back to earth some fragrant night, And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white. We will come down at night to these resounding beaches And the long gentle thunder of the sea, Here […]...
15. Whales Weep Not! They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains The hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent. All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge On and on, and dive beneath the icebergs. The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers There they blow, there […]...
16. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
17. The Maiden From Afar Within a vale, each infant year, When earliest larks first carol free, To humble shepherds cloth appear A wondrous maiden, fair to see. Not born within that lowly place From whence she wandered, none could tell; Her parting footsteps left no trace, When once the maiden sighed farewell. And blessed was her presence there Each […]...
18. The Battle of Blenheim It was a summer evening; Old Kaspar’s work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun; And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round, Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found. He came to […]...
19. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 02: The Screen Maiden You read-what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand turns the page. I watch you from my window, unsuspected: You move in an alien land, a silent age. . . . . . The poet-what was his name-? Tokkei-Tokkei- The poet walked alone in […]...
20. Garden and cradle When our babe he goeth walking in his garden, Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play; The posies they are good to him, And bow them as they should to him, As fareth he upon his kingly way; And birdlings of the wood to him Make music, gentle music, all the day, When our babe […]...
21. Psalm LXXIII: Now I'm Convinced the Lord Is Kind Now I ‘m convinced the Lord is kind To men of heart sincere; Yet once my foolish thoughts repined, And bordered on despair. I grieved to see the wicked thrive, And spoke with angry breath, “How pleasant and profane they live! How peaceful is their death! “With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes, They lay their […]...
22. The Chimney Sweeper (Innocence) When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue, Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep, So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep. Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head That curled like a lambs back was shav’d, so I said. Hush […]...
23. The Grandmother I. And Willy, my eldest-born, is gone, you say, little Anne? Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man. And Willy’s wife has written: she never was over-wise, Never the wife for Willy: he would n’t take my advice. II. For, Annie, you see, her father was not the man […]...
24. To the maiden To the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked, The sea was dead grey walls Superlative in vacancy, Upon which nevertheless at fateful time Was written The grim hatred of nature....
25. Sonnet CV Let not my love be call’d idolatry, Nor my beloved as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out […]...
26. Sonnet 105: Let not my love be called idolatry Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my belovèd as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out […]...
27. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
28. Florrie Because I was a wonton wild And welcomed many a lover, Who is the father of my child I wish I could discover. For though I know it is not right In tender arms to tarry, A barmaid has to be polite To Tom and Dick and Harry. My truest love was Poacher Jim: I […]...
29. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
30. THE TRAVELLER AND THE FARM~MAIDEN HE. CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden, ‘Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder, Where I’d fain one moment cease to wander, Food and drink to one so heavy laden? SHE. Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary, Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes, None but Nature’s plain and homely dishes, […]...
31. Hymn 37 Christ’s intercession. Lift up your eyes to th’ heav’nly seats Where your Redeemer stays; Kind Intercessor, there he sits, And loves, and pleads, and prays. ‘Twas well, my soul, he died for thee, And shed his vital blood; Appeased stern justice on the tree, And then arose to God. Petitions now, and praise may rise, […]...
32. The dead babe Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, In agony I knelt and said: “0 God! what have I done, Or in what wise offended Thee, That Thou should’st take away from me My little son? “Upon the thousand useless lives, Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives, Thy wrath were better spent! Why should’st Thou […]...
33. Maiden Name Marrying left yor maiden name disused. Its five light sounds no longer mean your face, Your voice, and all your variants of grace; For since you were so thankfully confused By law with someone else, you cannot be Semantically the same as that young beauty: It was of her that these two words were used. […]...
34. Be Kind we are always asked To understand the other person’s Viewpoint No matter how Out-dated Foolish or Obnoxious. One is asked To view Their total error Their life-waste With Kindliness, Especially if they are Aged. But age is the total of Our doing. They have aged Badly Because they have Lived Out of focus, They have […]...
35. 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 […]...
36. The Three Fishers 1 Three fishers went sailing away to the west, 2 Away to the west as the sun went down; 3 Each thought on the woman who loved him the best, 4 And the children stood watching them out of the town; 5 For men must work, and women must weep, 6 And there’s little to […]...
37. As Kingfishers Catch Fire As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves – goes itself; […]...
38. Oh Stay At Home, My Lad Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough The land and not the sea, And leave the soldiers at their drill, And all about the idle hill Shepherd your sheep with me. Oh stay with company and mirth And daylight and the air; Too full already is the grave Of fellows that were good and […]...
39. TO THE KIND READER No one talks more than a Poet; Fain he’d have the people know it. Praise or blame he ever loves; None in prose confess an error, Yet we do so, void of terror, In the Muses’ silent groves. What I err’d in, what corrected, What I suffer’d, what effected, To this wreath as flow’rs belong; […]...
40. A Maiden's Secret I have written this day down in my heart As the sweetest day in the season; From all of the others I’ve set it apart – But I will not tell you the reason, That is my secret – I must not tell; But the skies are soft and tender, And never before, I know […]...