The ocean said to me once

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1. July Fourth By The Ocean The continent’s a tamed ox, with all its mountains, Powerful and servile; here is for plowland, here is for park and playground, this helpless Cataract for power; it lies behind us at heel All docile between this ocean and the other. If flood troubles the lowlands, or earthquake Cracks walls, it is only a slave’s […]...
2. Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd 1 OUT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me, Whispering, I love you, before long I die, I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you, For I could not die till I once look’d on you, For I fear’d I might afterward lose you. […]...
3. The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean Unhappy about some far off things That are not my affair, wandering Along the coast and up the lean ridges, I saw in the evening The stars go over the lonely ocean, And a black-maned wild boar Plowing with his snout on Mal Paso Mountain. The old monster snuffled, “Here are sweet roots, Fat grubs, […]...
4. 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 […]...
5. The Ocean's Song We walked amongst the ruins famed in story Of Rozel-Tower, And saw the boundless waters stretch in glory And heave in power. O Ocean vast! We heard thy song with wonder, Whilst waves marked time. “Appear, O Truth!” thou sang’st with tone of thunder, “And shine sublime! “The world’s enslaved and hunted down by beagles, […]...
6. The wanderer Upon a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Ah, who can say Whether there dropped by some too careless […]...
7. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
8. Mid-ocean in War-time (For My Mother) The fragile splendour of the level sea, The moon’s serene and silver-veiled face, Make of this vessel an enchanted place Full of white mirth and golden sorcery. Now, for a time, shall careless laughter be Blended with song, to lend song sweeter grace, And the old stars, in their unending race, Shall […]...
9. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
10. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
11. Psalm 24 Dwelling with God. The earth for ever is the Lord’s, With Adam’s num’rous race; He raised its arches o’er the floods, And built it on the seas. But who among the sons of men May visit thine abode? He that has hands from mischief clean, Whose heart is right with God. This is the man […]...
12. Parable Of Faith Now, in twilight, on the palace steps The king asks forgiveness of his lady. He is not Duplicitous; he has tried to be True to the moment; is there another way of being True to the self? The lady Hides her face, somewhat Assisted by the shadows. She weeps For her past; when one has […]...
13. A Valentine For Hands names, silence-quietest minutes (building like rain or returning like seas) Since they have touched me, your warm hands have sown Gentlest sounds, touches and hours (or, building like rain, turning, like seas) (building like rain, or returning like seas) Ripples and springs-the shiniest rivers- Since they have known me your warm hands have gathered Smallest, […]...
14. How pleasant to know Mr. Lear How pleasant to know Mr. Lear, Who has written such volumes of stuff. Some think him ill-tempered and queer, But a few find him pleasant enough. His mind is concrete and fastidious, His nose is remarkably big; His visage is more or less hideous, His beard it resembles a wig. He has ears, and two […]...
15. If I Were King I often wish I were a King, And then I could do anything. If only I were King of Spain, I’d take my hat off in the rain. If only I were King of France, I wouldn’t brush my hair for aunts. I think, if I were King of Greece, I’d push things off the […]...
16. Million Man March Poem The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach, I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach. Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound, You couldn’t even call out my name. […]...
17. Letter Home New Orleans, November 1910 Four weeks have passed since I left, and still I must write to you of no work. I’ve worn down The soles and walked through the tightness Of my new shoes calling upon the merchants, Their offices bustling. All the while I kept thinking My plain English and good writing would […]...
18. Love and Sleep I have laid sorrow to sleep; Love sleeps. She who oft made me weep Now weeps. I loved, and have forgot, And yet Love tells me she will not Forget. She it was bid me go; Love goes By what strange ways, ah! no One knows. Because I cease to weep, She weeps. Here by […]...
19. Psalm 134 Daily and nightly devotion. Ye that obey th’ immortal King, Attend his holy place; Bow to the glories of his power, And bless his wondrous grace. Lift up your hands by morning light, And send your souls on high; Raise your admiring thoughts by night Above the starry sky. The God of Zion cheers our […]...
20. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
21. Daybreak In Alabama When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music about Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist And falling out of heaven like soft dew. I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it And the scent […]...
22. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
23. To Zoл Against the groaning mast I stand, The Atlantic surges swell, To bear me from my native land And Zoл’s wild farewell. From billow upon billow hurl’d I can yet hear her say, ‘And is there nothing in the world Worth one short hour’s delay?’ ‘Alas, my Zoл! were it thus, I should not sail alone, […]...
24. Song of Perfect Propriety Oh, I should like to ride the seas, A roaring buccaneer; A cutlass banging at my knees, A dirk behind my ear. And when my captives’ chains would clank I’d howl with glee and drink, And then fling out the quivering plank And watch the beggars sink. I’d like to straddle gory decks, And dig […]...
25. Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish at the same time. I think Praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think staying up and waiting For paintings to sigh is science. In another […]...
26. Well I Remember How You Smiled Well I remember how you smiled To see me write your name upon The soft sea-sand. . . “O! what a child! You think you’re writing upon stone!” I have since written what no tide Shall ever wash away, what men Unborn shall read o’er ocean wide And find Ianthe’s name again....
27. Sleeping Out: Full Moon They sleep within. . . . I cower to the earth, I waking, I only. High and cold thou dreamest, O queen, high-dreaming and lonely. We have slept too long, who can hardly win The white one flame, and the night-long crying; The viewless passers; the world’s low sighing With desire, with yearning, To the […]...
28. John Horace Burleson I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art; There married the banker’s daughter, And later became president of the bank- Always looking forward to some leisure To write an epic novel of […]...
29. 526. Song-The Dumfries Volunteers DOES haughty Gaul invasion threat? Then let the louns beware, Sir; There’s wooden walls upon our seas, And volunteers on shore, Sir: The Nith shall run to Corsincon, And Criffel sink in Solway, Ere we permit a Foreign Foe On British ground to rally! We’ll ne’er permit a Foreign Foe On British ground to rally! […]...
30. 274. Song-Carle, an' the King come Chorus.-Carle, an the King come, Carle, an the King come, Thou shalt dance and I will sing, Carle, an the King come. AN SOMEBODY were come again, Then somebody maun cross the main, And every man shall hae his ain, Carle, an the King come. Carle, an the King come, &c. I trow we swapped […]...
31. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
32. The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo I On the Coast of Coromandel Where the early pumpkins blow, In the middle of the woods Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-BС‚. Two old chairs, and half a candle, One old jug without a handle, These were all his worldly goods: In the middle of the woods, These were all the worldly goods, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-BС‚, Of […]...
33. While the Fates Sleep Come, let us to the sunways of the west, Hasten, while crystal dews the rose-cups fill, Let us dream dreams again in our blithe quest O’er whispering wold and hill. Castles of air yon wimpling valleys keep Where milk-white mist steals from the purpling sea, They shall be ours in the moon’s wizardry, While the […]...
34. Madness (For Sara Teasdale) The lonely farm, the crowded street, The palace and the slum, Give welcome to my silent feet As, bearing gifts, I come. Last night a beggar crouched alone, A ragged helpless thing; I set him on a moonbeam throne Today he is a king. Last night a king in orb and crown […]...
35. Tears THANK God, bless God, all ye who suffer not More grief than ye can weep for. That is well That is light grieving! lighter, none befell Since Adam forfeited the primal lot. Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot, The mother singing, at her marriage-bell The bride weeps, and before the oracle […]...
36. Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet IV ‘Tis night; the mercenary tyrants sleep As undisturb’d as Justice! but no more The wretched Slave, as on his native shore, Rests on his reedy couch: he wakes to weep! Tho’ thro’ the toil and anguish of the day No tear escap’d him, not one suffering groan Beneath the twisted thong, he weeps alone In […]...
37. Song What I took in my hand Grew in weight. You must Understand it Was not obscene. Night comes. We sleep. Then if you know what Say it. Don’t pretend. Guises are What enemies wear. You And I live In a prayer. Helpless. Helpless, Should I speak. Would you. What do you think of me. No […]...
38. The Chorus of Old Men in Aegus Ye gods that have a home beyond the world, Ye that have eyes for all man’s agony, Ye that have seen this woe that we have seen,- Look with a just regard, And with an even grace, Here on the shattered corpse of a shattered king, Here on a suffering world where men grow old […]...
39. The Sum-Up It is not power and fame That make success; It is not rank or name Rate happiness. It is not honour due Nor pile of pelf: The pay-off is: Did you Enjoy yourself? A pal of days gone by I reckon more Of a success than I Who’ve gold in store His life, though none […]...
40. The Sailor The boat of the boatman Madhu is moored at the wharf of Rajgunj. It is uselessly laden with jute, and has been lying there idle For ever so long. If he would only lend me his boat, I should man her with a Hundred oars, and hoist sails, five or six or seven. I should […]...