"I Need Not Go&quot

Related poetry:

1. One Bumper at Parting One bumper at parting! though many Have circled the board since we met, The fullest, the saddest of any Remains to be crown’d by us yet. The sweetness that pleasure hath in it Is always so slow to come forth, That seldom, alas, till the minute It dies, do we know half its worth. But […]...
2. Winter Song Rain and wind, and wind and rain. Will the Summer come again? Rain on houses, on the street, Wetting all the people’s feet, Though they run with might and main. Rain and wind, and wind and rain. Snow and sleet, and sleet and snow. Will the Winter never go? What do beggar children do With […]...
3. Sursum Corda Seek not the Spirit, if it hide, Inexorable to thy zeal: Baby, do not whine and chide; Art thou not also real? Why should’st thou stoop to poor excuse? Turn on the Accuser roundly; say, “Here am I, here will I remain Forever to myself soothfast, Go thou, sweet Heaven, or, at thy pleasure stay.”- […]...
4. You love the Lord you cannot see You love the Lord you cannot see You write Him every day A little note when you awake And further in the Day. An Ample Letter How you miss And would delight to see But then His House is but a Step And Mine’s in Heaven You see....
5. Love's Grave MARK where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back’d wave! Here is a fitting spot to dig Love’s grave; Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike, And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand: In hearing of the ocean, and in sight Of those ribb’d wind-streaks running into white. […]...
6. Modern Love XLIII: Mark Where the Pressing Wind Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, Its skeleton shadow on the broad-backed wave! Here is a fitting spot to dig Love’s grave; Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike, And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand: In hearing of the ocean, and in sight Of those ribbed wind-streaks running into white. […]...
7. While we were fearing it, it came While we were fearing it, it came But came with less of fear Because that fearing it so long Had almost made it fair There is a Fitting a Dismay A Fitting a Despair ‘Tis harder knowing it is Due Than knowing it is Here. They Trying on the Utmost The Morning it is new […]...
8. Henry Clay's Mouth Senator, statesman, speaker of the House, Exceptional dancer, slim, Graceful, ugly. Proclaimed, before most, slavery An evil, broker Of elections (burned Jackson For Adams), took a pistol ball in the thigh In a duel, delayed, by forty years, With his compromises, the Civil War, Gambler (“I have always Paid peculiar homage to the fickle goddess”), […]...
9. Sonnet LVIII That god forbid that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, The imprison’d absence of your liberty; And patience, tame to sufferance, […]...
10. Sonnet 58: That god forbid, that made me first your slave That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th’ account of hours to crave, Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, Th’ imprisoned absence of your liberty, And patience tame to sufferance, […]...
11. Sonnet XLI Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman’s son Will sourly leave […]...
12. Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won; Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; And when a woman woos, what woman’s son Will sourly leave […]...
13. 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 […]...
14. Delayed till she had ceased to know Delayed till she had ceased to know Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay An hour behind the fleeting breath Later by just an hour than Death Oh lagging Yesterday! Could she have guessed that it would be Could but a crier of the joy Have climbed the distant hill Had […]...
15. A Meeting With Despair AS evening shaped I found me on a moor Which sight could scarce sustain: The black lean land, of featureless contour, Was like a tract in pain. “This scene, like my own life,” I said, “is one Where many glooms abide; Toned by its fortune to a deadly dun Lightless on every side. I glanced […]...
16. Dear Heart, Why Will You Use Me So? Dear heart, why will you use me so? Dear eyes that gently me upbraid, Still are you beautiful – but O, How is your beauty raimented! Through the clear mirror of your eyes, Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss, Desolate winds assail with cries The shadowy garden where love is. And soon shall […]...
17. To Cesario CESARIO, thy Lyre’s dulcet measure, So sweetly, so tenderly flows; That could my sad soul taste of pleasure, Thy music would soften its woes. But ah, gentle soother, where anguish Takes root in the grief-stricken heart; ‘Tis the triumph of sorrow to languish, ‘Tis rapture to cherish the smart. The mind where pale Mis’ry sits […]...
18. EPIPHANIAS THE three holy kings with their star’s bright ray, They eat and they drink, but had rather not pay; They like to eat and drink away, They eat and drink, but had rather not pay. The three holy kings have all come here, In number not four, but three they appear; And if a fourth […]...
19. I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark, Not Day I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went! And more must, in yet longer light’s delay. With witness I speak this. But where I say Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament […]...
20. My Last Dance The shell of objects inwardly consumed Will stand, till some convulsive wind awakes; Such sense hath Fire to waste the heart of things, Nature, such love to hold the form she makes. Thus, wasted joys will show their early bloom, Yet crumble at the breath of a caress; The golden fruitage hides the scathèd bough, […]...
21. The Other Under my bowels, yellow with smoke, It waits. Under my eyes, those milk bunnies, It waits. It is waiting. It is waiting. Mr. Doppelganger. My brother. My spouse. Mr. Doppelganger. My enemy. My lover. When truth comes spilling out like peas It hangs up the phone. When the child is soothed and resting on the […]...
22. Song III: It Grew Up Without Heeding Love is enough: it grew up without heeding In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure, And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding, As the morning and evening passed over its treasure. And what do ye say […]...
23. 515. Song-O let me in this ae night O LASSIE, are ye sleepin yet, Or are ye waukin, I wad wit? For Love has bound me hand an’ fit, And I would fain be in, jo. Chorus.-O let me in this ae night, This ae, ae, ae night; O let me in this ae night, I’ll no come back again, jo! O hear’st […]...
24. Pleasure XXIV Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came forth and said, “Speak to us of Pleasure.” And he answered, saying: Pleasure is a freedom song, But it is not freedom. It is the blossoming of your desires, But it is not their fruit. It is a depth calling unto a height, But […]...
25. Franklin Hyde Who caroused in the Dirt and was corrected by His Uncle. His Uncle came upon Franklin Hyde Carousing in the Dirt. He Shook him hard from Side to Side And Hit him till it Hurt, Exclaiming, with a Final Thud, “Take that! Abandoned boy! For Playing with Disgusting Mud As though it were a Toy!” […]...
26. On a Columnar Self On a Columnar Self How ample to rely In Tumult or Extremity How good the Certainty That Lever cannot pry And Wedge cannot divide Conviction That Granitic Base Though None be on our Side Suffice Us for a Crowd Ourself and Rectitude And that Assembly not far off From furthest Spirit God...
27. Farewell, Ungrateful Traitor! Farewell, ungrateful traitor! Farewell, my perjur’d swain! Let never injur’d woman Believe a man again. The pleasure of possessing Surpasses all expressing, But ’tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain. ‘Tis easy to deceive us In pity of your pain, But when we love, you leave us To rail at you […]...
28. The Poor Boy's Christmas Observe, my child, this pretty scene, And note the air of pleasure keen With which the widow’s orphan boy Toots his tin horn, his only toy. What need of costly gifts has he? The widow has nowhere to flee. And ample noise his horn emits To drive the widow into fits. MORAL: The philosophic mind […]...
29. THE YELPERS OUR rides in all directions bend, For business or for pleasure, Yet yelpings on our steps attend, And barkings without measure. The dog that in our stable dwells, After our heels is striding, And all the while his noisy yells But show that we are riding. 1815.*...
30. Psalm 84 part 1 The pleasure of public worship. How pleasant, how divinely fair, O Lord of hosts, thy dwellings are! With long desire my spirit faints To meet th’ assemblies of thy saints. My flesh would rest in thine abode, My panting heart cries out for God; My God! my King! why should I be So far from […]...
31. Sonnet 126: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time’s fickle glass his fickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein show’st Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow’st. If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that […]...
32. Psalm 27 part 2 v.8,9,13,14 C. M. Prayer and hope. Soon as I heard my Father say, “Ye children, seek my grace,” My heart replied without delay, “I’ll seek my Father’s face.” Let not thy face be hid from me, Nor frown my soul away; God of my life, I fly to thee In a distressing day. Should friends […]...
33. Every Man Should have a Rifle So I sit and write and ponder, while the house is deaf and dumb, Seeing visions “over yonder” of the war I know must come. In the corner – not a vision – but a sign for coming days Stand a box of ammunition and a rifle in green baize. And in this, the living […]...
34. Senec. Traged. Ex Thyeste Chor.2 Translated. Senec. Traged. ex Thyeste Chor.2. Stet quicunque volet potens Aulae culmine lubrico &c. Climb at Court for me that will Tottering favors Pinacle; All I seek is to lye still. Settled in some secret Nest In calm Leisure let me rest; And far of the publick Stage Pass away my silent Age. Thus when […]...
35. Penmaen Pool For the Visitors’ Book at the Inn Who long for rest, who look for pleasure Away from counter, court, or school O where live well your lease of leisure But here at, here at Penmaen Pool? You’ll dare the Alp? you’ll dart the skiff?- Each sport has here its tackle and tool: Come, plant the […]...
36. The World Some are the brothers of all humankind, And own them, whatsoever their estate; And some, for sorrow and self-scorn, are blind With enmity for man’s unguarded fate. For some there is a music all day long Like flutes in Paradise, they are so glad; And there is hell’s eternal under-song Of curses and the cries […]...
37. Boon Soul Behold! I’m old; my hair is white; My eighty years are in the offing, And sitting by the fire to-night I sip a grog to ease my coughing. It’s true I’m raucous as a rook, But feeling bibulously “bardy,” These lines I’m scribbling in a book: The verse complete of Thomas Hardy. Although to-day he’s […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. Margaret Fuller Slack I would have been as great as George Eliot But for an untoward fate. For look at the photograph of me made by Penniwit, Chin resting on hand, and deep-set eyes Gray, too, and far-searching. But there was the old, old problem: Should it be celibacy, matrimony or unchastity? Then John Slack, the rich druggist, […]...
40. To A Lady O! had my Fate been join’d with thine, As once this pledge appear’d a token, These follies had not, then, been mine, For, then, my peace had not been broken. To thee, these early faults I owe, To thee, the wise and old reproving: They know my sins, but do not know ‘Twas thine to […]...