The Caged Thrush Freed and Home Again (Villanelle)

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1. Back Home Thoughts, go your way home. Embrace, depths of the soul and the sea. In my view, it is stupid To be always serene. My cabin is the worst of all cabins – All night above me Thuds a smithy of feet. All night, stirring the ceiling’s calm, Dancers stampede to a moaning motif: “Marquita, Marquita, […]...
2. The Darkling Thrush I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-gray, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse outleant, His crypt […]...
3. DOUBLE VILLANELLE I. O goat-foot God of Arcady! This modern world is grey and old, And what remains to us of thee? No more the shepherd lads in glee Throw apples at thy wattled fold, O goat-foot God of Arcady! Nor through the laurels can one see Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold And what […]...
4. Villanelle: The Psychological Hour I had over prepared the event, That much was ominous. With middle-ageing care I had laid out just the right books. I had almost turned down the pages. Beauty is so rare a thing. So few drink of my fountain. So much barren regret, So many hours wasted! And now I watch, from the window, […]...
5. The Caged Skylark As a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage Man’s mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells- That bird beyond the remembering his free fells; This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life’s age. Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage, Both sing sometímes the sweetest, sweetest spells, Yet both droop deadly sómetimes in […]...
6. The Home-Coming My boy’s come back; he’s here at last; He came home on a special train. My longing and my ache are past, My only son is back again. He’s home with music, flags and flowers; With peace and joy my heart’s abrim; He got here in the morning hours With half the town to welcome […]...
7. 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 […]...
8. I know why the caged bird sings A free bird leaps on the back Of the wind and floats downstream Till the current ends and dips his wing In the orange suns rays And dares to claim the sky. But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage Can seldom see through his bars of rage His wings are clipped and his […]...
9. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
10. The First Thrush Though leaves have fallen long since, The wagtails flirt and flit, Glad in the morning sun; While, on the knotted quince, The dewdrops, pearled on it, Bead to a little run. . . . Soft as a breathing air There came a lovely sound Out of the branches bare; So rich it was, and round, […]...
11. Home Burial He saw her from the bottom of the stairs Before she saw him. She was starting down, Looking back over her shoulder at some fear. She took a doubtful step and then undid it To raise herself and look again. He spoke Advancing toward her: ‘What is it you see From up there always for […]...
12. The Mystery Your eyes drink of me, Love makes them shine, Your eyes that lean So close to mine. We have long been lovers, We know the range Of each other’s moods And how they change; But when we look At each other so Then we feel How little we know; The spirit eludes us, Timid and […]...
13. I never felt at Home Below I never felt at Home Below And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home I know I don’t like Paradise Because it’s Sunday all the time And Recess never comes And Eden’ll be so lonesome Bright Wednesday Afternoons If God could make a visit Or ever took a Nap So not to […]...
14. The Thrush's Nest Within a thick and spreading hawthorn bush That overhung a molehill large and round, I heard from morn to morn a merry thrush Sing hymns to sunrise, and I drank the sound With joy; and often, an intruding guest, I watched her secret toil from day to day- How true she warped the moss to […]...
15. A Hermit Thrush Nothing’s certain. Crossing, on this longest day, The low-tide-uncovered isthmus, scrambling up The scree-slope of what at high tide Will be again an island, To where, a decade since well-being staked The slender, unpremeditated claim that brings us Back, year after year, lugging the Makings of another picnic- The cucumber sandwiches, the sea-air-sanctified Fig newtons-there’s […]...
16. The Hermit Thrush O wonderful! How liquid clear The molten gold of that ethereal tone, Floating and falling through the wood alone, A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear! 0 holy, holy, holy! Hyaline, Long light, low light, glory of eventide! Love far away, far up. up, love divine! Little love, too, for ever, ever, near, Warm […]...
17. The End Of The Trail Life, you’ve been mighty good to me, Yet here’s the end of the trail; No more mountain, moor and sea, No more saddle and sail. Waves a-leap in the laughing sun Call to me as of yore. . . . Alas! my errant days are done: I’ll rove no more, no more. Life, you’ve cheered […]...
18. In California During the Gulf War Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among Trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts, The yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought, Certain airy white blossoms punctually Reappeared, and dense clusters of pale pink, dark pink A delicate abundance. They seemed Like guests arriving joyfully on the accustomed Festival day, unaware of the year’s events, […]...
19. Villanelle Katie could put her feet behind her head Or do a grand plié, position two, Her suppleness magnificent in bed. I strained my lower back, and Katie bled, Only a little, doing what we could do When Katie tucked her feet behind her head. Her torso was a C-cup’d figurehead, Wearing below its navel a […]...
20. A Villanelle O singer of Persephone! In the dim meadows desolate Dost thou remember Sicily? Still through the ivy flits the bee Where Amaryllis lies in state; O Singer of Persephone! Simaetha calls on Hecate And hears the wild dogs at the gate; Dost thou remember Sicily? Still by the light and laughing sea Poor Polypheme bemoans […]...
21. Introduction to the Songs of Innocence Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: ‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’ So I piped with merry cheer. ‘Piper, pipe that song again;’ So I piped: he wept to hear. ‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy […]...
22. Songs Of Innocence: Introduction Piping down the valleys wild Piping songs of pleasant glee On a cloud I saw a child. And he laughing said to me. Pipe a song about a Lamb: So I piped with merry chear, Piper, pipe that song again So I piped, he wept to hear. Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe Sing thy […]...
23. Reeds of Innocence Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: ‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’ So I piped with merry cheer. ‘Piper, pipe that song again;’ So I piped: he wept to hear. ‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy […]...
24. Piping Down the Valleys Wild Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: ‘Pipe a song about a lamb!’ So I piped with merry cheer. ‘Piper, pipe that song again.’ So I piped: he wept to hear. ‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy […]...
25. Old Codger Of garden truck he made his fare, As his bright eyes bore witness; Health was his habit and his care, His hobby human fitness. He sang the praise of open sky, The gladth of Nature’s giving; And when at last he came to die It was of too long living. He held aloof from hate […]...
26. Villanelle of Change Since Persia fell at Marathon, The yellow years have gathered fast: Long centuries have come and gone. And yet (they say) the place will don A phantom fury of the past, Since Persia fell at Marathon; And as of old, when Helicon Trembled and swayed with rapture vast (Long centuries have come and gone), This […]...
27. Villanelle At Sundown Turn your head. Look. The light is turning yellow. The river seems enriched thereby, not to say deepened. Why this is, I’ll never be able to tell you. Or are Americans half in love with failure? One used to say so, reading Fitzgerald, as it happened. (That Viking Portable, all water spotted and yellow Remember?) […]...
28. Come Home! When wintry winds are no more heard, And joy’s in every bosom, When summer sings in every bird, And shines in every blossom, When happy twilight hours are long, Come home, my love, and think no wrong! When berries gleam above the stream And half the fields are yellow, Come back to me, my joyous […]...
29. Villanelle Of Spring Bells Bells in the town alight with spring Converse, with a concordance of new airs Make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. People emerge from winter to hear them ring, Children glitter with mischief and the blind man hears Bells in the town alight with spring. Even he on his eyes feels the caressing […]...
30. East India Grill Villanelle Across the table, Bridget sneaks a smile; She’s caught me staring past her at the man Who brings us curried dishes, hot and mild. His eyes are blue, intensely blue, hot sky; His hair, dark gold; his skin like cinnamon. He speaks in quick-soft accents; Bridget smiles. We’ve come here in our summer skirts, heels […]...
31. The feet of people walking home The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go The Crocus til she rises The Vassal of the snow The lips at Hallelujah Long years of practise bore Til bye and bye these Bargemen Walked singing on the shore. Pearls are the Diver’s farthings Extorted from the Sea Pinions the Seraph’s wagon Pedestrian once […]...
32. The World's All Right Be honest, kindly, simple, true; Seek good in all, scorn but pretence; Whatever sorrow come to you, Believe in Life’s Beneficence! The World’s all right; serene I sit, And cease to puzzle over it. There’s much that’s mighty strange, no doubt; But Nature knows what she’s about; And in a million years or so We’ll […]...
33. The Wrong Way Home All night a door floated down the river. It tried to remember little incidents of pleasure From its former life, like the time the lovers Leaned against it kissing for hours And whispering those famous words. Later, there were harsh words and a shoe Was thrown and the door was slammed. Comings and goings by […]...
34. Dance-Hall Girls Where are the dames I used to know In Dawson in the days of yore? Alas, it’s fifty years ago, And most, I guess, have “gone before.” The swinging scythe is swift to mow Alike the gallant and the fair; And even I, with gouty toe, Am glad to fill a rocking chair. Ah me, […]...
35. Corn Grinders O little mouse, why dost thou cry While merry stars laugh in the sky? Alas! alas! my lord is dead! Ah, who will ease my bitter pain? He went to seek a millet-grain In the rich farmer’s granary shed; They caught him in a baited snare, And slew my lover unaware: Alas! alas! my lord […]...
36. Home I came back late and tired last night Into my little room, To the long chair and the firelight And comfortable gloom. But as I entered softly in I saw a woman there, The line of neck and cheek and chin, The darkness of her hair, The form of one I did not know Sitting […]...
37. Home How brightly glistening in the sun The woodland ivy plays! While yonder beeches from their barks Reflect his silver rays. That sun surveys a lovely scene From softly smiling skies; And wildly through unnumbered trees The wind of winter sighs: Now loud, it thunders o’er my head, And now in distance dies. But give me […]...
38. On Home Beaches Back, in my fifties, fatter that I was then, I step on the sand, belch down slight horror to walk A wincing pit edge, waiting for the pistol shot Laughter. Long greening waves cash themselves, foam change Sliding into Ocean’s pocket. She turns: ridicule looks down, Strappy, with faces averted, or is glare and families. […]...
39. A Letter from Home She sends me news of blue jays, frost, Of stars and now the harvest moon That rides above the stricken hills. Lightly, she speaks of cold, of pain, And lists what is already lost. Here where my life seems hard and slow, I read of glowing melons piled Beside the door, and baskets filled With […]...
40. At Home When I was dead, my spirit turned To seek the much-frequented house: I passed the door, and saw my friends Feasting beneath green orange boughs; From hand to hand they pushed the wine, They sucked the pulp of plum and peach; They sang, they jested, and they laughed, For each was loved of each. I […]...