She Hears The Storm

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1. Storm and Sunlight I In barns we crouch, and under stacks of straw, Harking the storm that rides a hurtling legion Up the arched sky, and speeds quick heels of panic With growling thunder loosed in fork and clap That echoes crashing thro’ the slumbrous vault. The whispering woodlands darken: vulture Gloom Stoops, menacing the skeltering flocks of […]...
2. The Storm I Ran to the forest for shelter, Breathless, half sobbing; I put my arms round a tree, Pillowed my head against the rough bark. “Protect me,” I said. “I am a lost child.” But the tree showered silver drops on my face and hair. A wind sprang up from the ends of the earth; It […]...
3. The Snow-Storm Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hill and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farmhouse at the garden’s end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet Delated, all friends shut out, the housemates […]...
4. A Radio With Guts it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street I used to get drunk And throw the radio through the window While it was playing, and, of course, It would break the glass in the window And the radio would sit there on the roof Still playing And I’d tell my woman, “Ah, what a […]...
5. In A Eweleaze Near Weatherbury THE years have gathered grayly Since I danced upon this leaze With one who kindled gayly Love’s fitful ecstasies! But despite the term as teacher, I remain what I was then In each essential feature Of the fantasies of men. Yet I note the little chisel Of ever-napping Time, Defacing ghast and grizzel The blazon […]...
6. The First Night Of Fall And Falling Rain The common rain had come again Slanting and colorless, pale and anonymous, Fainting falling in the first evening Of the first perception of the actual fall, The long and late light had slowly gathered up A sooty wood of clouded sky, dim and distant more and more Until, at dusk, the very sense of selfhood […]...
7. A Late Walk When I go up through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew, Half closes the garden path. And when I come to the garden ground, The whir of sober birds Up from the tangle of withered weeds Is sadder than any words A tree beside the wall stands bare, […]...
8. Winter Night It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned. As during summer midges swarm To beat their wings against a flame Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed To beat against the window pane The blizzard sculptured on the […]...
9. The Mocking Fairy ‘Won’t you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?’ Quoth the Fairy, nidding, nodding in the garden; ‘Can’t you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?’ Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly in the garden; But the air was still, the cherry boughs were still, And the ivy-tod neath the empty sill, And never from her […]...
10. The Thatch Out alone in the winter rain, Intent on giving and taking pain. But never was I far out of sight Of a certain upper-window light. The light was what it was all about: I would not go in till the light went out; It would not go out till I came in. Well, we should […]...
11. Storm Fear WHEN the wind works against us in the dark, And pelts with snow The lowest chamber window on the east, And whispers with a sort of stifled bark, The beast, ‘Come out! Come out!’ It costs no inward struggle not to go, Ah, no! I count our strength, Two and a child, Those of us […]...
12. What The Dog Perhaps Hears If an inaudible whistle Blown between our lips Can send him home to us, Then silence is perhaps The sound of spiders breathing And roots mining the earth; It may be asparagus heaving, Headfirst, into the light And the long brown sound Of cracked cups, when it happens. We would like to ask the dog […]...
13. He Hears The Cry Of The Sedge I wander by the edge Of this desolate lake Where wind cries in the sedge: Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their round, And hands hurl in the deep The banners of East and West, And the girdle of light is unhound, Your breast will not lie by the breast Of your […]...
14. He Hears That His Beloved Has Become Engaged For C. G. B. When she came on, you couldn’t keep your seat; Fighting your way up through the orchestra, Tup-heavy bumpkin, you confused your feet, Fell in the drum – how we went ha ha ha! But once you gained her side and started waltzing We all began to cheer; the way she leant […]...
15. A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree Another on the Roof A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves And made the Gables laugh A few went out to help the Brook That went to help the Sea Myself Conjectured were they Pearls What Necklace could be The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads The Birds jocoser […]...
16. Morning Song Of Senlin from Senlin: A Biography It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do. Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, […]...
17. Red-Tiled Roof Poets may praise a wattle thatch Doubtfully waterproof; Let me uplift my lowly latch Beneath a rose-tiled roof. Let it be gay and rich in hue, Soft bleached by burning days, Where skies ineffably are blue, And seas a golden glaze. But set me in the surly North Beneath a roof of slate, And as […]...
18. After The Storm There are so many islands! As many islands as the stars at night On that branched tree from which meteors are shaken Like falling fruit around the schooner Flight. But things must fall, and so it always was, On one hand Venus, on the other Mars; Fall, and are one, just as this earth is […]...
19. Trickle, Drops TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins leaving! O drops of me! trickle, slow drops, Candid, from me falling-drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison’d, From my face-from my forehead and lips, From my breast-from within where I was conceal’d-press forth, red drops-confession drops; Stain every page-stain every song I sing, […]...
20. The house where I was born (08) I open my eyes, yes, it’s the house where I was born, Exactly as it was and nothing more. The same small dining room whose window Gives onto a peach tree that never grows. A man and a woman are seated At this window, facing one another, They are talking, for once. And the child […]...
21. Exmoor Lost aboard the roll of Kodac- Olor that was to have super- Seded all need to remember Somerset were: a large flock Of winter-bedcover-thick- Pelted sheep up on the moor; A stile, a church spire, And an excess, at Porlock, Of tenderly barbarous antique Thatch in tandem with flower- Beds, relentlessly pictur- Esque, along every […]...
22. The Moods Time drops in decay, Like a candle burnt out, And the mountains and woods Have their day, have their day; What one in the rout Of the fire-born moods Has fallen away?...
23. Old Susan When Susan’s work was done, she’d sit With one fat guttering candle lit, And window opened wide to win The sweet night air to enter in; There, with a thumb to keep her place She’d read, with stern and wrinkled face. Her mild eyes gliding very slow Across the letters to and fro, While wagged […]...
24. Proud Music of The Storm 1 PROUD music of the storm! Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies! Strong hum of forest tree-tops! Wind of the mountains! Personified dim shapes! you hidden orchestras! You serenades of phantoms, with instruments alert, Blending, with Nature’s rhythmus, all the tongues of nations; You chords left us by vast composers! you choruses! […]...
25. Tree At My Window Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me. Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground, And thing next most diffuse to cloud, Not all your light tongues talking aloud Could be profound. But tree, I have seen you […]...
26. The Storm 1 Against the stone breakwater, Only an ominous lapping, While the wind whines overhead, Coming down from the mountain, Whistling between the arbors, the winding terraces; A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves, And the small street-lamp swinging and slamming against the lamp pole. Where have the people gone? There is […]...
27. THE WANDERER'S STORM-SONG [Goethe says of this ode, that it is the only One remaining out of several strange hymns and dithyrambs composed By him at a period of great unhappiness, when the love-affair between Him and Frederica had been broken off by him. He used to sing them While wandering wildly about the country. This particular one […]...
28. Buffalo Bill BOY heart of Johnny Jones-aching to-day? Aching, and Buffalo Bill in town? Buffalo Bill and ponies, cowboys, Indians? Some of us know All about it, Johnny Jones. Buffalo Bill is a slanting look of the eyes, A slanting look under a hat on a horse. He sits on a horse and a passing look is […]...
29. The Lost Path The garden’s full of scented wallflowers, And, save that these stir faintly, nothing stirs; Only a distant bell in hollow chime Cried out just now for far-forgoten time, And three reverberate words the great bell spoke. The knocker’s made of brass, the door of oak, And such a clamor must be loosed on air By […]...
30. The Widow By Mellstock Lodge and Avenue Towards her door I went, And sunset on her window-panes Reflected our intent. The creeper on the gable nigh Was fired to more than red And when I came to halt thereby “Bright as my joy!” I said. Of late days it had been her aim To meet me in […]...
31. The Candle Indoors Some candle clear burns somewhere I come by. I muse at how its being puts blissful back With yellowy moisture mild night’s blear-all black, Or to-fro tender trambeams truckle at the eye. By that window what task what fingers ply, I plod wondering, a-wanting, just for lack Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or Jack […]...
32. Glazunoviana The man with the red hat And the polar bear, is he here too? The window giving on shade, Is that here too? And all the little helps, My initials in the sky, The hay of an arctic summer night? The bear Drops dead in sight of the window. Lovely tribes have just moved to […]...
33. To Any Reader As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees, So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away, And in another garden, play. But do not think you can at all, By knocking on the window, call That child to hear […]...
34. Night-Scented Stock White, white in the milky night The moon danced over a tree. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to swim in the lake!” Someone whispered to me. “Oh, do-do-do!” cooed someone else, And clasped her hands to her chin. “I should so love to see the white bodies All the white bodies jump in!” The big dark […]...
35. Before Storm There’s a grayness over the harbor like fear on the face of a woman, The sob of the waves has a sound akin to a woman’s cry, And the deeps beyond the bar are moaning with evil presage Of a storm that will leap from its lair in that dour north-eastern sky. Slowly the pale […]...
36. The Storm If as the winds and waters here below Do fly and flow, My sighs and tears as busy were above; Sure they would move And much affect thee, as tempestuous times Amaze poor mortals, and object their crimes. Stars have their storms, ev’n in a high degree, As well as we. A throbbing conscience spurred […]...
37. Storm God in me is the fury on the bare heath God in me shakes the interior kingdom of my heaven. God in me is the fire wherein I burn. God in me swirling cloud and driving rain God in me cries a lonely nameless bird God in me beats my head upon a stone. God […]...
38. The Rain Was Ending, And Light The rain was ending, and light Lifting the leaden skies. It shone upon ceiling and floor And dazzled a child’s eyes. Pale after fever, a captive Apart from his schoolfellows, He stood at the high room’s window With face to the pane pressed close, And beheld an immense glory Flooding with fire the drops Spilled […]...
39. THE TABLE IN A RESTAURANT Bhaskar Roy Barman The moment I close my eyes In meditation on the unfathomable I visualize golden fleeces of cloud Perambulating the skies And old faces peering down through the fleeces, Their faces writhed into a semblance of smile. With them I used to sit at a table in a restaurant By the window overlooking […]...
40. In the Storm that is to come By our place in the midst of the furthest seas we were fated to stand alone – When the nations fly at each other’s throats let Australia look to her own; Let her spend her gold on the barren west, let her keep her men at home; For the South must look to the South […]...