Give Me Back My Rags #12

Related poetry:

1. Give Me Back My Rags #4 Get out of my walled infinity Of the star circle round my heart Of my mouthful of sun Get out of the comic sea of my blood Of my flow of my ebb Get out of my stranded silence Get out I said get out Get out of my living abyss Of the bare father-tree […]...
2. Give Me Back My Rags #1 Give me back my rags My rags of pure dreaming Of silk smiling of striped foreboding Of my cloth of lace My rags of spotted hope Of burnished desire of chequered glances Of skin from my face Give me back my rags Give me when I ask you nicely...
3. Give Me Back My Rags #11 I’ve wiped your face off my face Ripped your shadow off my shadow Leveled the hills in you Turned your plains into hills Set your seasons quarreling Turned all the ends of the world from you Wrapped the path of my life around you My impenetrable my impossible path Just try to meet me now...
4. Give Me Back My Rags Just come to my mind My thoughts will scratch out your face Just come into my sight My eyes will start snarling at you Just open your mouth My silence will smash your jaws Just remind me of you My remembering will paw up the ground under your feet That’s what it’s come to between […]...
5. Give Me Strength This is my prayer to thee, my lord – strike, Strike at the root of penury in my heart. Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows. Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service. Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before […]...
6. Sonnet 09 – Can it be right to give what I can give? Can it be right to give what I can give? To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years Re-sighing on my lips renunciative Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live For all thy adjurations? O my fears, That this can scarce be right! We […]...
7. THE HAWTHORN TREE ACROSS the shimmering meadows Ah, when he came to me! In the spring-time, In the night-time, In the starlight, Beneath the hawthorn tree. Up from the misty marsh-land Ah, when he climbed to me! To my white bower, To my sweet rest, To my warm breast, Beneath the hawthorn tree. Ask of me what the […]...
8. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
9. Epilogue “Why can’t you say what you mean straight out in prose?” Well, say it yourself: then say “It’s that, but more, Or less perhaps, or not that way, or not That after all.” The meaning of a song Might be an undernote; this tree might mean That leaf as much as trunk, branch, other leaves. […]...
10. The Heap of Rags One night when I went down Thames’ side, in London Town, A heap of rags saw I, And sat me down close by. That thing could shout and bawl, But showed no face at all; When any steamer passed And blew a loud shrill blast, That heap of rags would sit And make a sound […]...
11. In rags mysterious as these In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go Veiling the purple, and the plumes Veiling the ermine so. Smiling, as they request an alms At some imposing door! Smiling when we walk barefoot Upon their golden floor!...
12. Child and mother O mother-my-love, if you’ll give me your hand, And go where I ask you to wander, I will lead you away to a beautiful land, The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder. We’ll walk in a sweet posie-garden out there, Where moonlight and starlight are streaming, And the flowers and the birds are filling the air […]...
13. The Box Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye, Around about the wondrous days of yore, They came across a kind of box Bound up with chains and locked with locks And labeled “Kindly do not touch; it’s war.” A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout And a […]...
14. All Roads That Lead To God Are Good All roads that lead to God are good. What matters it, your faith, or mine? Both centre at the goal divine Of love’s eternal Brotherhood. The kindly life in house or street – The life of prayer and mystic rite – The student’s search for truth and light – These paths at one great Junction […]...
15. Bedtime Story The moon lies on the river Like a drop of oil. The children come to the banks to be healed Of their wounds and bruises. The fathers who gave them their wounds and bruises Come to be healed of their rage. The mothers grow lovely; their faces soften, The birds in their throats awake. They […]...
16. 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 […]...
17. God Give to Men God give the yellow man An easy breeze at blossom time. Grant his eager, slanting eyes to cover Every land and dream Of afterwhile. Give blue-eyed men their swivel chairs To whirl in tall buildings. Allow them many ships at sea, And on land, soldiers And policemen. For black man, God, No need to bother […]...
18. What Would I Give What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through, Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do! Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all. What would I give for words, if only words would come! But now in its misery my spirit has fallen […]...
19. I'm going to give up loving you i’m going to give up loving you I’m going to hate you instead Living’s so difficult difficult baby Hating’s like staying in bed You expect too much when i’m loving you I haven’t got it in me to give Love keeps on keeps on at me baby It makes a man frightened to live Hating’s […]...
20. So give me back to Death So give me back to Death The Death I never feared Except that it deprived of thee And now, by Life deprived, In my own Grave I breathe And estimate its size Its size is all that Hell can guess And all that Heaven was...
21. What would I give to see his face? What would I give to see his face? I’d give I’d give my life of course But that is not enough! Stop just a minute let me think! I’d give my biggest Bobolink! That makes two Him and Life! You know who “June” is I’d give her Roses a day from Zanzibar And Lily tubes […]...
22. Never Give All The Heart Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss; For everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy. Kind delight. O never give the heart outright, For they, for all smooth lips […]...
23. Give Me Leave to Rail at You Give me leave to rail at you, – I ask nothing but my due: To call you false, and then to say You shall not keep my heart a day. But alas! against my will I must be your captive still. Ah! be kinder, then, for I Cannot change, and would not die. Kindness has […]...
24. Give All To Love Give all to love; Obey thy heart; Friends, kindred, days, Estate, good fame, Plans, credit, and the muse; Nothing refuse. ‘Tis a brave master, Let it have scope, Follow it utterly, Hope beyond hope; High and more high, It dives into noon, With wing unspent, Untold intent; But ’tis a god, Knows its own path, […]...
25. Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun 1 GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling; Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard; Give me a field where the unmow’d grass grows; Give me an arbor, give me the trellis’d grape; Give me fresh corn and wheat-give me serene-moving animals, teaching content; Give me nights […]...
26. Give little Anguish Give little Anguish Lives will fret Give Avalanches And they’ll slant Straighten look cautious for their Breath But make no syllable like Death Who only shows the Marble Disc Sublimer sort than Speech...
27. Stanzas For Music: There's Not A Joy The World Can Give There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines in feeling’s dull decay; ‘Tis not on youth’s smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past. Then the few whose spirits […]...
28. Oh give it Motion deck it sweet Oh give it Motion deck it sweet With Artery and Vein Upon its fastened Lips lay words Affiance it again To that Pink stranger we call Dust Acquainted more with that Than with this horizontal one That will not lift its Hat...
29. Give Me Women, Wine, and Snuff GIVE me women, wine, and snuff Untill I cry out “hold, enough!” You may do so sans objection Till the day of resurrection: For, bless my beard, they aye shall be My beloved Trinity....
30. Cavalier Tunes: Give a Rouse King Charles, and who’ll do him right now? King Charles, and who’s ripe for fight now? Give a rouse: here’s, in Hell’s despite now, King Charles! Who gave me the goods that went since? Who raised me the house that sank once? Who helped me to gold I spent since? Who found me in wine […]...
31. Feast I drank at every vine. The last was like the first. I came upon no wine So wonderful as thirst. I gnawed at every root. I ate of every plant. I came upon no fruit So wonderful as want. Feed the grape and bean To the vintner and monger: I will lie down lean With […]...
32. Modern Love XXXVIII: Give to Imagination Give to imagination some pure light In human form to fix it, or you shame The devils with that hideous human game: Imagination urging appetite! Thus fallen have earth’s greatest Gogmagogs, Who dazzle us, whom we can not revere: Imagination is the charioteer That, in default of better, drives the hogs. So, therefore, my dear […]...
33. Sonnet 08 – What can I give thee back, O liberal What can I give thee back, O liberal And princely giver, who hast brought the gold And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold, And laid them on the outside of the-wall For such as I to take or leave withal, In unexpected largesse? am I cold, Ungrateful, that for these most manifold High gifts, I […]...
34. THE OLIVE BRANCH Sadly I walk’d within the field, To see what comfort it would yield; And as I went my private way, An olive-branch before me lay; And seeing it, I made a stay, And took it up, and view’d it; then Kissing the omen, said Amen; Be, be it so, and let this be A divination […]...
35. The Heart Of The Sourdough There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto the moon, There where the sullen sun-dogs glare in the snow-bright, bitter noon, And the glacier-glutted streams sweep down at the clarion call of June. There where the livid tundras keep their tryst with the tranquil snows; There where the silences are spawned, and the light […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. 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 […]...
38. The Blackbird Of Derrycairn Stop, stop and listen for the bough top Is whistling and the sun is brighter Than God’s own shadow in the cup now! Forget the hour-bell. Mournful matins Will sound, Patric, as well at nightfall. Faintly through mist of broken water Fionn heard my melody in Norway. He found the forest track, he brought back […]...
39. Break, Break, Break Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the […]...
40. Russian Sonia I, born in Weimar Of a mother who was French And German father, a most learned professor, Orphaned at fourteen years, Became a dancer, known as Russian Sonia, All up and down the boulevards of Paris, Mistress betimes of sundry dukes and counts, And later of poor artists and of poets. At forty years, passée, […]...