The Phantom Horsewoman

Related poetry:

1. As if a Phantom Caress'd Me AS if a phantom caress’d me, I thought I was not alone, walking here by the shore; But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore-the one I loved, that caress’d me, As I lean and look through the glimmering light-that one has utterly disappear’d, And those appear that […]...
2. Carry On It’s easy to fight when everything’s right, And you’re mad with the thrill and the glory; It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near, And wallow in fields that are gory. It’s a different song when everything’s wrong, When you’re feeling infernally mortal; When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none, Buck up, little […]...
3. Phantom All look and likeness caught from earth All accident of kin and birth, Had pass’d away. There was no trace Of aught on that illumined face, Uprais’d beneath the rifted stone But of one spirit all her own ; She, she herself, and only she, Shone through her body visibly....
4. The Nymph's Song to Hylas I KNOW a little garden-close Set thick with lily and red rose, Where I would wander if I might From dewy dawn to dewy night, And have one with me wandering. And though within it no birds sing, And though no pillar’d house is there, And though the apple boughs are bare Of fruit and […]...
5. Lydia Humphrey Back and forth, back and forth, to and from the church, With my Bible under my arm Till I was gray and old; Unwedded, alone in the world, Finding brothers and sisters in the congregation, And children in the church. I know they laughed and thought me queer. I knew of the eagle souls that […]...
6. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 121. Sad Hesper o'er the buried sun Sad Hesper o’er the buried sun And ready, thou, to die with him, Thou watchest all things ever dim And dimmer, and a glory done: The team is loosen’d from the wain, The boat is drawn upon the shore; Thou listenest to the closing door, And life is darken’d in the brain. Bright Phosphor, fresher […]...
7. Sonnet LXXXVI Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither […]...
8. Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor […]...
9. The Wonderer I wish that I could understand The moving marvel of my Hand; I watch my fingers turn and twist, The supple bending of my wrist, The dainty touch of finger-tip, The steel intensity of grip; A tool of exquisite design, With pride I think: “It’s mine! It’s mine!” Then there’s the wonder of my Eyes, […]...
10. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
11. The Maid-Servant At The Inn “It’s queer,” she said; “I see the light As plain as I beheld it then, All silver-like and calm and bright- We’ve not had stars like that again! “And she was such a gentle thing To birth a baby in the cold. The barn was dark and frightening- This new one’s better than the old. […]...
12. The Flying Dutchman Unyielding in the pride of his defiance, Afloat with none to serve or to command, Lord of himself at last, and all by Science, He seeks the Vanished Land. Alone, by the one light of his one thought, He steers to find the shore from which he came, Fearless of in what coil he may […]...
13. We grow accustomed to the Dark We grow accustomed to the Dark When light is put away As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp To witness her Goodbye A Moment We uncertain step For newness of the night Then fit our Vision to the Dark And meet the Road erect And so of larger Darkness Those Evenings of the Brain When […]...
14. I Fellowed Sleep I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain, Let fall the tear of time; the sleeper’s eye, Shifting to light, turned on me like a moon. So, planning-heeled, I flew along my man And dropped on dreaming and the upward sky. I fled the earth and, naked, climbed the weather, Reaching a second ground […]...
15. To Thomas Butts TO my friend Butts I write My first vision of light, On the yellow sands sitting. The sun was emitting His glorious beams From Heaven’s high streams. Over sea, over land, My eyes did expand Into regions of air, Away from all care; Into regions of fire, Remote from desire; The light of the morning […]...
16. The Height of the Ridiculous I WROTE some lines once on a time In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came; How kind […]...
17. Extinguish Thou My Eyes Extinguish Thou my eyes:I still can see Thee, Deprive my ears of sound:I still can hear Thee, And without feet I still can come to Thee, And without voice I still can call to Thee. Sever my arms from me, I still will hold Thee With all my heart as with a single hand, Arrest […]...
18. MY PERFECT ROSE At ten she came to me, three years ago, There was ‘something between us’ even then; Watching her write like Eliot every day, Turn prose into haiku in ten minutes flat, Write a poem in Greek three weeks from learning the alphabet; Then translate it as ‘Sun on a tomb, gold place, small sacred horse’. […]...
19. The Spoilsport My familiar ghost again Comes to see what he can see, Critic, son of Conscious Brain, Spying on our privacy. Slam the window, bolt the door, Yet he’ll enter in and stay; In tomorrow’s book he’ll score Indiscretions of today. Whispered love and muttered fears, How their echoes fly about! None escape his watchful ears, […]...
20. The Burning Book OR THE CONTENTED METAPHYSICIAN TO the lore of no manner of men Would his vision have yielded When he found what will never again From his vision be shielded,- Though he paid with as much of his life As a nun could have given, And to-night would have been as a knife, Devil-drawn, devil-driven. For […]...
21. Crazy Jane And Jack The Journeyman I know, although when looks meet I tremble to the bone, The more I leave the door unlatched The sooner love is gone, For love is but a skein unwound Between the dark and dawn. A lonely ghost the ghost is That to God shall come; I – love’s skein upon the ground, My body […]...
22. On The Sea-Shore, Smell Of Iodine On the sea-shore, smell of iodine, And square as in Sicily, and dancing. An intellectual that came from the common people, Preparing himself to be Rosencrantz. He decides to serve Claudius and therefore Spy on Prince Hamlet from the fountain. All over the world – the prison. At the world’s End a certain John plays […]...
23. Let Me Not Forget If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life Then let me ever feel that I have missed thy sight – let me not forget for a moment, Let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams And in my wakeful hours. As my days pass in the crowded market […]...
24. Memoriam A. H. H.: 67. When on my bed the moonlight fall When on my bed the moonlight falls, I know that in thy place of rest By that broad water of the west, There comes a glory on the walls: Thy marble bright in dark appears, As slowly steals a silver flame Along the letters of thy name, And o’er the number of thy years. The […]...
25. A Tragedy Among his books he sits all day To think and read and write; He does not smell the new-mown hay, The roses red and white. I walk among them all alone, His silly, stupid wife; The world seems tasteless, dead and done – An empty thing is life. At night his window casts a square […]...
26. The Ghost of Miltiades The Ghost of Miltiades came at night, And he stood by the bed of the Benthamite, And he said, in a voice, that thrill’d the frame, “If ever the sound of Marathon’s name Hath fir’d they blood or flush’d thy brow, Lover of Liberty, rise thee now!” The Benthamite, yawning, left his bed Away to […]...
27. Drunk Too far away, oh love, I know, To save me from this haunted road, Whose lofty roses break and blow On a night-sky bent with a load Of lights: each solitary rose, Each arc-lamp golden does expose Ghost beyond ghost of a blossom, shows Night blenched with a thousand snows. Of hawthorn and of lilac […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. Super Samson Simpson I am Super Samson Simpson, I’m superlatively strong, I like to carry elephants, I do it all day long, I pick up half a dozen And hoist them in the air, It’s really somewhat simple, For I have strength to spare. My muscles are enormous, They bulge from top to toe, And when I carry […]...
30. The Mother Mourns When mid-autumn’s moan shook the night-time, And sedges were horny, And summer’s green wonderwork faltered On leaze and in lane, I fared Yell’ham-Firs way, where dimly Came wheeling around me Those phantoms obscure and insistent That shadows unchain. Till airs from the needle-thicks brought me A low lamentation, As ’twere of a tree-god disheartened, Perplexed, […]...
31. Rose Leaves When they shall close my careless eyes And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her lies A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words were brittle, He dreamed so much, he did so little. When they shall seal y coffin lid And this worn mask I […]...
32. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
33. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
34. 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 […]...
35. Picture Dealer There were twin artists A. and B. Who painted pictures two, And hung them in my galley For everyone to view; The one exhibited by A. The name “A Sphere” did bear, While strangely brother B’s display Was catalogued: “A Square”. Now although A. (and this is queer) Could squeeze a pretty tube, The picture […]...
36. Babyhood A baby shines as bright If winter or if May be On eyes that keep in sight A baby. Though dark the skies or grey be, It fills our eyes with light, If midnight or midday be. Love hails it, day and night, The sweetest thing that may be Yet cannot praise aright A baby. […]...
37. Daylight and Moonlight In broad daylight, and at noon, Yesterday I saw the moon Sailing high, but faint and white, As a schoolboy’s paper kite. In broad daylight, yesterday, I read a poet’s mystic lay; And it seemed to me at most As a phantom, or a ghost. But at length the feverish day Like a passion died […]...
38. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
39. Young Blood “But, sir,” I said, “they tell me the man is like to die!” The Canon shook his head indulgently. “Young blood, Cousin,” he boomed. “Young blood! Youth will be served!” D’Hermonville’s Fabliaux. He woke up with a sick taste in his mouth And lay there heavily, while dancing motes Whirled through his brain in endless, […]...
40. The Appology ‘Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule I am alone forbid to play the fool To follow through the Groves a wand’ring Muse And fain’d Idea’s for my pleasures chuse Why shou’d it in my Pen be held a fault Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought Whilst Lamia to […]...