Let Me Enjoy

Related poetry:

1. 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 […]...
2. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
3. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
4. La Paloma in London About Soho we went before the light; We went, unresting six, craving new fun, New scenes, new raptures, for the fevered night Of rollicking laughter, drink and song, was done. The vault was void, but for the dawn’s great star That shed upon our path its silver flame, When La Paloma on a low guitar […]...
5. Psalm 136 Abridged God’s wonders of creation, providence, redemption, and salvation. Give to our God immortal praise; Mercy and truth are all his ways: Wonders of grace to God belong, Repeat his mercies in your song. Give to the Lord of lords renown, The King of kings with glory crown: His mercies ever shall endure, When lords and […]...
6. My Song This song of mine will wind its music around you, my child, like The fond arms of love. This song of mine will touch your forehead like a kiss of Blessing. When you are alone it will sit by your side and whisper in Your ear, when you are in the crowd it will fence […]...
7. Moving On In this war we’re always moving, Moving on; When we make a friend another friend has gone; Should a woman’s kindly face Make us welcome for a space, Then it’s boot and saddle, boys, we’re Moving on. In the hospitals they’re moving, Moving on; They’re here today, tomorrow they are gone; When the bravest and […]...
8. THE MUSES' SON [Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in His Autobiography, as expressing the manner in which his poetical Effusions used to pour out from him.] THROUGH field and wood to stray, And pipe my tuneful lay, ‘Tis thus my days are pass’d; And all keep tune with me, And move in harmony, And so on, […]...
9. Houses Of Dreams You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams Where my thoughts would throng Are far too full of happiness To even hold a song. Oh, the empty dreams were dim And the empty dreams were wide, They were sweet and shadowy […]...
10. Falling Asleep Voices moving about in the quiet house: Thud of feet and a muffled shutting of doors: Everyone yawning. Only the clocks are alert. Out in the night there’s autumn-smelling gloom Crowded with whispering trees; across the park A hollow cry of hounds like lonely bells: And I know that the clouds are moving across the […]...
11. IV. To the River Wenbeck AS slowly wanders thy forsaken stream, Wenbeck! the mossy-scatter’d rocks among, In fancy’s ear still making plaintive song To the dark woods above: ah! sure I seem To meet some friendly Genius in the gloom, And in each breeze a pitying voice I hear Like sorrow’s sighs upon misfortune’s tomb. Ah! soothing are your quiet […]...
12. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
13. The Valley Of The Black Pig The dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown spears Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened eyes, And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears. We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore, The grey caim on the hill, when day sinks drowned in dew, […]...
14. THANKS HER griefs were the hours When my struggle was sore, Her joys were the powers That the climber upbore. Her home is the boundless Free ocean that seems To rock, calm and soundless, My galleon of dreams. Half hers are the glancing Creations that throng With pageant and dancing The ways of my song. My […]...
15. The Owners Of The Little Box Line the inside of the little box With your precious skin And make yourself cozy Just as you would in your own home Make space voyages inside her Gather stars make time squirt its milk And sleep in the clouds Just don’t go around pretending You’re more important than her length And wiser than her […]...
16. Noon I bend to the ground To catch Something whispered, Urgent, drifting Across the ditches. The heaviness of Flies stuttering In orbit, dirt Ripening, the sweat Of eggs. There are Small streams The width ofa thumb Running in the villages Of sheaves, whole Eras of grain Wakening on The stalks, a roof That breathes over My […]...
17. Elegy Here rests beneath this hospitable spot A youth to flats and flatties not unknown. The Plymouth Brethren gave it to him hot; Trinity, Cambridge, claimed him for her own. At chess a minor master, Hoylake set His handicap a 2. Love drove him crazy; Thrre thousand women used to call him “pet”; In other gardens […]...
18. Shelley's Skylark (The neighbourhood of Leghorn: March) Somewhere afield here something lies In Earth’s oblivious eyeless trust That moved a poet to prophecies – A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust The dust of the lark that Shelley heard, And made immortal through times to be; – Though it only lived like another bird, And knew not its immortality. Lived its meek life; […]...
19. My Heart Is Heavy My heart is heavy with many a song Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree, But I can never give you one My songs do not belong to me. Yet in the evening, in the dusk When moths go to and fro, In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen, Take it, no one […]...
20. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
21. Absorbed in familiar rhythms Absorbed in familiar rhythms, Carillon of senses steeped In good vibrations, surrounded By musical beat Pulsing potently In avidly articulated veins, Moving heated blood Faultlessly, delivering its purity Into a reservoir of deep power, Preserving a cadence of fractured drumbeat Accurately with timeless Ocean sounds wound effortlessly In an eager counterpoint, Breathing a relaxed coda, […]...
22. Rev. Abner Peet I had no objection at all To selling my household effects at auction On the village square. It gave my beloved flock the chance To get something which had belonged to me For a memorial. But that trunk which was struck off To Burchard, the grog-keeper! Did you know it contained the manuscripts Of a […]...
23. 442. Remorseful Apology THE FRIEND whom, wild from Wisdom’s way, The fumes of wine infuriate send, (Not moony madness more astray) Who but deplores that hapless friend? Mine was th’ insensate frenzied part, Ah! why should I such scenes outlive? Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!- ‘Tis thine to pity and forgive....
24. Goldwing Moth A GOLDWING moth is between the scissors and the ink bottle on the desk. Last night it flew hundreds of circles around a glass bulb and a flame wire. The wings are a soft gold; it is the gold of illuminated initials in manuscripts of the medieval monks....
25. Style Flaubert wanted to write a novel About nothing. It was to have no subject And be sustained upon the style alone, Like the Holy Ghost cruising above The abyss, or like the little animals In Disney cartoons who stand upon a branch That breaks, but do not fall Till they look down. He never wrote […]...
26. Fancies Surely the flowers of a hundred springs Are simply the souls of beautiful things! The poppies aflame with gold and red Were the kisses of lovers in days that are fled. The purple pansies with dew-drops pearled Were the rainbow dreams of a youngling world. The lily, white as a star apart, Was the first […]...
27. If Dear love, if you and I could sail away, With snowy pennons to the wind unfurled, Across the waters of some unknown bay, And find some island far from all the world; If we could dwell there, ever more alone, While unrecorded years slip by apace, Forgetting and forgotten and unknown By aught save native […]...
28. Dreams While on my lonely couch I lie, I seldom feel myself alone, For fancy fills my dreaming eye With scenes and pleasures of its own. Then I may cherish at my breast An infant’s form beloved and fair, May smile and soothe it into rest With all a Mother’s fondest care. How sweet to feel […]...
29. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
30. Twilight in the Alps I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells Go chiming after her across the fair And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells, And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells Of peace are […]...
31. 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; […]...
32. Wapentake To Alfred Tennyson Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine; Not as a knight, who on the listed field Of tourney touched his adversary’s shield In token of defiance, but in sign Of homage to the mastery, which is thine, In English song; nor will I keep concealed, And voiceless as a rivulet […]...
33. Love, the Soul of Poetry WHen first Alexis did in Verse delight, His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk’t, And now and then a little Proudly stalk’t; But never aim’d at any noble Flight: The Herds, the Groves, the gentle purling Streams, Adorn’d his Song, and were his highest Theams. But Love these Thoughts, like Mists, did soon disperse, […]...
34. 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...
35. Returning, We Hear the Larks Sombre the night is. And though we have our lives, we know What sinister threat lies there. Dragging these anguished limbs, we only know This poison-blasted track opens on our camp – On a little safe sleep. But hark! joy – joy – strange joy. Lo! heights of night ringing with unseen larks. Music showering […]...
36. Called Into Play Fall fell: so that’s it for the leaf poetry: Some flurries have whitened the edges of roads And lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: & Turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going to Find something to write about I haven’t already Written away: I will have to stop short, look Down, look […]...
37. Accepted You are no longer young, Nor are you very old. There are homes where those belong. You know you do not fit When you observe the cold Stares of those who sit In bath-chairs or the park (A stick, then, at their side) Or find yourself in the dark And see the lovers who, In […]...
38. One and One are One One and One are One Two be finished using Well enough for Schools But for Minor Choosing Life just or Death Or the Everlasting More would be too vast For the Soul’s Comprising...
39. Epigram OH, be not led away, Lured by the colour of the sun-rich day. The gay romance of song Unto the spirit life doth not belong: Though far-between the hours In which the Master of Angelic powers Lightens the dusk within The holy of holies, be it thine to win Rare vistas of white light, Half-parted […]...
40. To An Orphan Child A Whimsey AH, child, thou art but half thy darling mother’s; Hers couldst thou wholly be, My light in thee would outglow all in others; She would relive to me. But niggard Nature’s trick of birth Bars, lest she overjoy, Renewal of the loved on earth Save with alloy. The Dame has no regard, alas, […]...