Thought Of Ph – a At News Of Her Death

Related poetry:

1. Thoughts Of Phena at news of her death Not a line of her writing have I Not a thread of her hair, No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby I may picture her there; And in vain do I urge my unsight To conceive my lost prize At her close, whom I knew […]...
2. A Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed IF God compel thee to this destiny, To die alone, with none beside thy bed To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said And mark with tears the pulses ebb from thee, Pray then alone, ‘ O Christ, come tenderly! By thy forsaken Sonship in the red Drear wine-press, by the wilderness out-spread, And […]...
3. Sonnet 01 – I thought once how Theocritus had sung I thought once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the […]...
4. How News must feel when travelling How News must feel when travelling If News have any Heart Alighting at the Dwelling ‘Twill enter like a Dart! What News must think when pondering If News have any Thought Concerning the stupendousness Of its perceiveless freight! What News will do when every Man Shall comprehend as one And not in all the Universe […]...
5. Her News You paused for a moment and I heard you smoking On the other end of the line. I pictured your expression, One eye screwed shut against the smoke As you waited for my reaction. I was waiting for it myself, a list of my own news Gone suddenly cold in my hand. Supposing my wife […]...
6. Dear Colette Dear Colette, I want to write to you About being a woman For that is what you write to me. I want to tell you how your face Enduring after thirty, forty, fifty. . . Hangs above my desk Like my own muse. I want to tell you how your hands Reach out from your […]...
7. Thought it was America Is there anything which isn’t made in China? The answer is… of course there is, the question Was rhetorical, a crude attempt to palliate China’s late renaissance; eighty years ago you’d say That nothing was – or nothing much that Mattered was, and still been wrong. I’d clipped my nails, don’t like them long and […]...
8. 543. Song-News, lassies, news THERE’S news, lassies, news, Gude news I’ve to tell! There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus.-The wean wants a cradle, And the cradle wants a cod: I’ll no gang to my bed, Until I get a nod. Father, quo’ she, Mither, quo she, Do what you can, I’ll no gang […]...
9. Her Death And After ‘TWAS a death-bed summons, and forth I went By the way of the Western Wall, so drear On that winter night, and sought a gate The home, by Fate, Of one I had long held dear. And there, as I paused by her tenement, And the trees shed on me their rime and hoar, I […]...
10. On The Death Of Sir Tho: Peltham Meerly for man’s death to mourne Were to repine that man was borne. When weake old age doth fall asleepe Twere foule ingratitude to weepe: Those threads alone should pull out tears Whose sodayne cracke breaks off some years. Heere tis not so: full distance heere Sunders the cradle from the beere. A fellow-traveller he […]...
11. For The Anniversary Of My Death Every year without knowing it I have passed the day When the last fires will wave to me And the silence will set out Tireless traveller Like the beam of a lightless star Then I will no longer Find myself in life as in a strange garment Surprised at the earth And the love of […]...
12. An Ode, On The Death Of Mr. Henry Purcell Late Servant to his Majesty, and Organist of the Chapel Royal, and Of St. Peter’s Westminster I Mark how the Lark and Linnet Sing, With rival Notes They strain their warbling Throats, To welcome in the Spring. But in the close of Night, When Philomel begins her Heav’nly lay, They cease their mutual spite, Drink […]...
13. An Old Man's Thought of School AN old man’s thought of School; An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot. Now only do I know you! O fair auroral skies! O morning dew upon the grass! And these I see-these sparkling eyes, These stores of mystic meaning-these young lives, Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships-immortal ships! […]...
14. To Death O King of Terrors, whose unbounded Sway All that have Life, must certainly Obey; The King, the Priest, the Prophet, all are Thine, Nor wou’d ev’n God (in Flesh) thy Stroke decline. My Name is on thy Roll, and sure I must Encrease thy gloomy Kingdom in the Dust. My soul at this no Apprehension […]...
15. A Thought From Propertius She might, so noble from head To great shapely knees The long flowing line, Have walked to the altar Through the holy images At pallas Athene’s Side, Or been fit spoil for a centaur Drunk with the unmixed wine....
16. THE DEATH OF ART “Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you.” -critic Harold Bloom, who first called slam poetry “the death of art.” I am not a poet. I want to be rich and buy things for my family. Besides, I am sort of popular and can honestly say I’ve had a great […]...
17. Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof Out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross Surveys the city’s blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers ‘ll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I’m taking Your picture, pigeons. I’m writing you down, Dawn. I’m immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus. O […]...
18. I thought the Train would never come I thought the Train would never come How slow the whistle sang I don’t believe a peevish Bird So whimpered for the Spring I taught my Heart a hundred times Precisely what to say Provoking Lover, when you came Its Treatise flew away To hide my strategy too late To wiser be too soon For […]...
19. Nothing But Death There are cemeteries that are lonely, Graves full of bones that do not make a sound, The heart moving through a tunnel, In it darkness, darkness, darkness, Like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, As though we were drowning inside our hearts, As though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul. […]...
20. News Of The Gold World Of May News of the Gold World of May in Holland Michigan: “Wooden shoes will clatter again on freshly scrubbed streets “ The tulip will arise and reign again from awnings and windows of all colors and forms its vine, verve and valentine curves upon the city streets, the public grounds and private lawns (wherever it is […]...
21. Late, Late, So Late Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill! Late, late, so late! but we can enter still. Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. No light had we: for that we do repent; And learning this, the bridegroom will relent. Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. No light: so late! […]...
22. Death XXVII Then Almitra spoke, saying, “We would ask now of Death.” And he said: You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed […]...
23. Writing often it is the only Thing Between you and Impossibility. No drink, No woman’s love, No wealth Can Match it. Nothing can save You Except Writing. It keeps the walls From Failing. The hordes from Closing in. It blasts the Darkness. Writing is the Ultimate Psychiatrist, The kindliest God of all the Gods. Writing stalks […]...
24. See See how her hair has thinned: it does not seem / Like hair at all, but like the airy moult / Of emus who outraced the wind and left / Soft plumage in their wake. See how her eyes / Are gentler now; see how each wrinkle laughs, / And deepens on itself, as though […]...
25. Morning News Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread And fried potatoes, tips green on the branches, Repeats old news: arrogance, ignorance, war. A cinder-block wall shared by two houses Is new rubble. On one side was a kitchen Sink and a cupboard, on the other was A bed, a bookshelf, three framed photographs. […]...
26. Death In The Lounge Bar The bar he went inside was not A place he often visited; He welcomed anonymity; No one to switch inquisitive Receivers on, no one could see, Or wanted to, exactly what He was, or had been, or would be; A quiet brown place, a place to drink And let thought simmer like good stock, No […]...
27. His Bargain Who talks of Plato’s spindle; What set it whirling round? Eternity may dwindle, Time is unwound, Dan and Jerry Lout Change their loves about. However they may take it, Before the thread began I made, and may not break it When the last thread has run, A bargain with that hair And all the windings […]...
28. The Tragic Death of the Rev. A. H. Mackonochie Friends of humanity, of high and low degree, I pray ye all come listen to me; And truly I will relate to ye, The tragic fate of the Rev. Alexander Heriot Mackonochie. Who was on a visit to the Bishop of Argyle, For the good of his health, for a short while; Because for the […]...
29. The Death of Robin Hood “Give me my bow,” said Robin Hood, “An arrow give to me; And where ‘t is shot mark thou that spot, For there my grave shall be.” Then Little John did make no sign, And not a word he spake; But he smiled, altho’ with mickle woe His heart was like to break. He raised […]...
30. When Death Comes When death comes Like the hungry bear in autumn; When death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse To buy me, and snaps the purse shut; When death comes Like the measle-pox When death comes Like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, […]...
31. THE SPINNER As I calmly sat and span, Toiling with all zeal, Lo! a young and handsome man Pass’d my spinning-wheel. And he praised, what harm was there? Sweet the things he said Praised my flax-resembling hair, And the even thread. He with this was not content, But must needs do more; And in twain the thread […]...
32. What He Thought We were supposed to do a job in Italy And, full of our feeling for Ourselves (our sense of being Poets from America) we went From Rome to Fano, met The Mayor, mulled a couple Matters over. The Italian literati seemed Bewildered by the language of America: they asked us What does “flat drink” mean? […]...
33. Sonnet 18 – I never gave a lock of hair away I never gave a lock of hair away To a man, Dearest, except this to thee, Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully, I ring out to the full brown length and say ‘Take it.’ My day of youth went yesterday; My hair no longer bounds to my foot’s glee, Nor plant I it from rose […]...
34. A Ballad of Death Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears, Girdle thyself with sighing for a girth Upon the sides of mirth, Cover thy lips and eyelids, let thine ears Be filled with rumour of people sorrowing; Make thee soft raiment out of woven sighs Upon the flesh to cleave, Set pains therein and many a […]...
35. DEATH-LAMENT OF THE NOBLE WIFE OF ASAN AGA [From the Morlack.) WHAT is yonder white thing in the forest? Is it snow, or can it swans perchance be? Were it snow, ere this it had been melted, Were it swans, they all away had hastend. Snow, in truth, it is not, swans it is not, ‘Tis the shining tents of Asan Aga. He […]...
36. His Meditation Upon Death BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend, Blest with the meditation of my end; Though they be few in number, I’m content; If otherwise, I stand indifferent, Nor makes it matter, Nestor’s years to tell, If man lives long, and if he live not well. A multitude of days still heaped on […]...
37. A Maiden's Secret I have written this day down in my heart As the sweetest day in the season; From all of the others I’ve set it apart – But I will not tell you the reason, That is my secret – I must not tell; But the skies are soft and tender, And never before, I know […]...
38. How They Brought The Good News From Ghent To Aix I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; “Good speed!” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; “Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each […]...
39. Letters I was thinking of letters, We all have a lot in our life A few good – a few sad But mostly run of the mill- I suppose that’s my fault For writing to run of the mill people. I’ve never had a letter I really wanted It might come one day But then, it […]...
40. 352. The Song of Death FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, Now gay with the broad setting sun; Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties, Our race of existence is run! Thou grim King of Terrors; thou Life’s gloomy foe! Go, frighten the coward and slave; Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know […]...