Lune de Miel

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1. Marizibill Dans la Haute-Rue à Cologne Elle allait et venait le soir Offerte à tous en tout mignonne Puis buvait lasse des trottoirs Très tard dans les brasseries borgnes Elle se mettait sur la paille Pour un maquereau roux et rose C’était un juif il sentait l’ail Et l’avait venant de Formose Tirée d’un bordel de […]...
2. La Fuite De La Lune To outer senses there is peace, A dreamy peace on either hand Deep silence in the shadowy land, Deep silence where the shadows cease. Save for a cry that echoes shrill From some lone bird disconsolate; A corncrake calling to its mate; The answer from the misty hill. And suddenly the moon withdraws Her sickle […]...
3. Rhénane d'Automne Mon verre est plein d’un vin trembleur comme une flamme Ecoutez la chanson lente d’un batelier Qui raconte avoir vu sous la lune sept femmes Tordre leurs cheveux verts et longs jusqu’à leurs pieds Debout chantez plus haut en dansant une ronde Que je n’entende plus le chant du batelier Et mettez près de moi […]...
4. Des règles et des rêves La vie compte Les règles, Le couche du soleil Leurs exceptions. La pluie boit Les siècles, Le printemps nos rêves. L’aigle regarde Les rayons du soleil Et la jeunesse, les rêves....
5. L'Invitation au Voyage Mon enfant, ma soeur, Songe à la douceur, D’aller là-bas, vivre ensemble! Aimer à loisir, Aimer et mourir, Au pays qui te ressemble! Les soleils mouillés, De ces ciels brouillés, Pour mon esprit ont les charmes, Si mystérieux, De tes traîtres yeux, Brillant à travers leurs larmes. Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté, Luxe, calme […]...
6. The Thorn (For the Rev. Charles L. O’Donnell, C. S. C.) The garden of God is a radiant place, And every flower has a holy face: Our Lady like a lily bends above the cloudy sod, But Saint Michael is the thorn on the rosebush of God. David is the song upon God’s lips, And Our Lady […]...
7. The Singing Girl (For the Rev. Edward F. Garesche, S. J.) There was a little maiden In blue and silver drest, She sang to God in Heaven And God within her breast. It flooded me with pleasure, It pierced me like a sword, When this young maiden sang: “My soul Doth magnify the Lord.” The stars sing all […]...
8. The Visitation (For Louise Imogen Guiney) There is a wall of flesh before the eyes Of John, who yet perceives and hails his King. It is Our Lady’s painful bliss to bring Before mankind the Glory of the skies. Her cousin feels her womb’s sweet burden rise And leap with joy, and she comes forth to sing, […]...
9. La nuit s'ouvre, l'orage Poem by Anne-Marie Derése La nuit s’ouvre, l’orage, Accouplement mauve, Boursouflure. Le ciel chargè Comme un bateau marchand Jette l’ancre. Le danger plus lourd Chaque instant Distille une moiteur De serre. Miroitante de mercure, La vallèe des sept Meuses Souffle la brume Par ses narines grises. La vallèe a rejoint la nuit, Deux femelles humides […]...
10. His Prayer To Ben Jonson When I a verse shall make, Know I have pray’d thee, For old religion’s sake, Saint Ben to aid me. Make the way smooth for me, When I, thy Herrick, Honouring thee, on my knee Offer my lyric. Candles I’ll give to thee, And a new altar, And thou, Saint Ben, shalt be Writ in […]...
11. Two Husbands Unpenitent, I grieve to state, Two good men stood by heaven’s gate, Saint Peter coming to await. The stopped the Keeper of the Keys, Saying: “What suppliants are these, Who wait me not on bended knees? “To get my heavenly Okay A man should have been used to pray, Or suffered in some grievous way.” […]...
12. GENIAL IMPULSE THUS roll I, never taking ease, My tub, like Saint Diogenes, Now serious am, now seek to please; Now love and hate in turn one sees; The motives now are those, now these; Now nothings, now realities. Thus roll I, never taking ease, My tub, like Saint Diogenes. 1810....
13. The Last Supper They are assembled, astonished and disturbed Round him, who like a sage resolved his fate, And now leaves those to whom he most belonged, Leaving and passing by them like a stranger. The loneliness of old comes over him Which helped mature him for his deepest acts; Now will he once again walk through the […]...
14. Dawn Opposite me two Germans snore and sweat. Through sullen swirling gloom we jolt and roar. We have been here for ever: even yet A dim watch tells two hours, two aeons, more. The windows are tight-shut and slimy-wet With a night’s foetor. There are two hours more; Two hours to dawn and Milan; two hours […]...
15. La courbe de tes yeux La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur, Un rond de danse et de douceur, Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr, Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que j’ai vécu C’est que tes yeux ne m’ont pas toujours vu. Feuilles de jour et mousse de rosée, Roseaux du vent, […]...
16. Barcelona The night before I left Milan A mob jammed the Cathedral Square, And high the tide of passion ran As politics befouled the air. A seething hell of human strife, I shrank back from its evil core, Seeing in this convulsive life The living seeds of war. To Barcelona then I came, And oh the […]...
17. The Shivering Beggar NEAR Clapham village, where fields began, Saint Edward met a beggar man. It was Christmas morning, the church bells tolled, The old man trembled for the fierce cold. Saint Edward cried, “It is monstrous sin A beggar to lie in rags so thin! An old gray-beard and the frost so keen: I shall give him […]...
18. When Winchester races When Winchester races first took their beginning It is said the good people forgot their old Saint Not applying at all for the leave of Saint Swithin And that William of Wykeham’s approval was faint. The races however were fixed and determined The company came and the Weather was charming The Lords and the Ladies […]...
19. TO GROVES Ye silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth wear; Who for some sweet-heart’s sake, did prove The fire and martyrdom of Love: Here is the legend of those saints That died for love, and their complaints; Their wounded hearts, and names we find Encarved upon the leaves and rind. Give […]...
20. By That Lake, Whose Gloomy Shore By that Lake, whose gloomy shore Sky-lark never warbles o’er, Where the cliff hangs high and steep, Young Saint Kevin stole to sleep. “Here, at least,” he calmly said, “Woman ne’er shall find my bed.” Ah! the good Saint little knew What that wily sex can do. ‘Twas from Kathleen’s eyes he flew Eyes of […]...
21. Psalm 125 The saint’s trial and safety. Unshaken as the sacred hill, And firm as mountains be, Firm as a rock the soul shall rest That leans, O Lord, on thee. Not walls nor hills could guard so well Old Salem’s happy ground, As those eternal arms of love That every saint surround. While tyrants are a […]...
22. Les Colchiques Le pré est vénéneux mais joli en automne Les vaches y paissant Lentement s’empoisonnent Le colchique couleur de cerne et de lilas Y fleurit tes yeux sont comme cette fleur-la Violatres comme leur cerne et comme cet automne Et ma vie pour tes yeux lentement s’empoisonne Les enfants de l’école viennent avec fracas Vêtus de […]...
23. Before The Paling Of The Stars Before the winter morn, Before the earliest cock crow, Jesus Christ was born: Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world his hands had made Born a stranger. Priest and king lay fast asleep In Jerusalem; Young and old lay fast asleep In crowded Bethlehem; Saint and angel, ox and ass, Kept […]...
24. St. Alexis, Patron of Beggars We who beg for bread as we daily tread Country lane and city street, Let us kneel and pray on the broad highway To the saint with the vagrant feet. Our altar light is a buttercup bright, And our shrine is a bank of sod, But still we share St. Alexis’ care, The Vagabond of […]...
25. Milano wandering around milan my father I know that (bred in the bone) i’m you I walk and think – my legs roll onwards I take in the atmosphere but not the view But now you’re dead – and i’ve been silent For the past five months since you were burned A numbness that called itself […]...
26. St. Senanus and the Lady St. Senanus “On! haste, and leave this sacred isle, Unholy bark, ere morning smile; For on thy deck, though dark it be, A female form I see; And I have sworn this sainted sod Shall ne’er by woman’s feet by trod!” The Lady “Oh! Father, send not hence my bark Through wintry winds and billows […]...
27. NEW YEAR POEM For Jeremy Reed Rejection doesn’t lead me to dejection But to inspiration via irritation Or at least to a bit of naughty new year wit- Oh isn’t it a shame my poetry’s not tame Like Rupert’s or Jay’s – I never could Get into their STRIDE just to much pride To lick the arses of […]...
28. The Loveable Characters I long for the streets but the Lord knoweth best, For there I am never a saint; There are lovable characters out in the West, With humour heroic and quaint; And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back, When I shall have gone to my Home, I trust to be buried ‘twixt River […]...
29. COCK-CROW Bell-man of night, if I about shall go For to deny my Master, do thou crow! Thou stop’st Saint Peter in the midst of sin; Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin; Better it is, premonish’d, for to shun A sin, than fall to weeping when ’tis done....
30. ON FIRST READING JOHN GOODBY'S 'IRISH POETRY SINCE 1950&#039 Barbarous insult to Yeats’ memory and Claudel’s Allen, thank God you are dead, you who breathed the air of Apollinaire, Ghost of Reverdy bear witness to the mendacity of his clamour, Hart Crane, rise from the estuary of the great river you drowned in, John Clare, rise from your country churchyard grave, Gray, from your […]...
31. Footsteps of Angels When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful firelight Dance upon the parlor wall; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the […]...
32. Judgment Day Saint Peter stood, at Heaven’s gate, All souls claims to adjudicate Saying to some souls, “Enter in!” “Go to Hell,” to others, “you are steeped in sin.” When up from earth, with a great hubbub, Came all the members of the Tuscarora Club. The angel Gabriel, peering out, Said, “What, the devil, is this noise […]...
33. A Certain Man A certain man wishes to be a prince Of this earth; he also wants to be A saint and master of the being-world. Conscience cannot exist in the first: The second cannot exist without conscience. Therefore he, who has enough conscience To be disturbed but not enough to be Compelled, can neither reject the one […]...
34. Jerome Each day brings its toad, each night its dragon. Der heilige Hieronymus his lion is at the zoo Listens, listens. All the long, soft, summer day Dreams affright his couch, the deep boils like a pot. As the sun sets, the last patient rises, Says to him, Father, trembles, turns away. Often, to the lion, […]...
35. Le Verbe Кtre Je connais le dйsespoir dans ses grandes lignes. Le dйsespoir n’a pas d’ailes, il ne Se tient pas nйcessairement а une table desservie sur une terrasse, le soir, au bord de La mer. C’est le dйsespoir et ce n’est pas le retour d’une quantitй de petits faits Comme des graines qui quittent а la nuit […]...
36. My Madonna I haled me a woman from the street, Shameless, but, oh, so fair! I bade her sit in the model’s seat And I painted her sitting there. I hid all trace of her heart unclean; I painted a babe at her breast; I painted her as she might have been If the Worst had been […]...
37. 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 […]...
38. Prophecy I shall die hidden in a hut In the middle of an alder wood, With the back door blind and bolted shut, And the front door locked for good. I shall lie folded like a saint, Lapped in a scented linen sheet, On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint, Narrow and cold and neat. The […]...
39. Cuttings This urge, wrestle, resurrection of dry sticks, Cut stems struggling to put down feet, What saint strained so much, Rose on such lopped limbs to a new life? I can hear, underground, that sucking and sobbing, In my veins, in my bones I feel it The small waters seeping upward, The tight grains parting at […]...
40. Each Life Converges to some Centre Each Life Converges to some Centre Expressed or still Exists in every Human Nature A Goal Embodied scarcely to itself it may be Too fair For Credibility’s presumption To mar Adored with caution as a Brittle Heaven To reach Were hopeless, as the Rainbow’s Raiment To touch Yet persevered toward sure for the Distance How […]...