In The Village Of My Ancestors

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1. Village in Late Summer LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers....
2. Ancestors Behold these jewelled, merchant Ancestors, Foregathered in some chancellery of death; Calm, provident, discreet, they stroke their beards And move their faces slowly in the gloom, And barter monstrous wealth with speech subdued, Lustreless eyes and acquiescent lids. And oft in pauses of their conference, They listen to the measured breath of night’s Hushed sweep […]...
3. My Ancestors A barefoot boy I went to school To save a cobbler’s fee, For though the porridge pot was full A frugal folk were we; We baked our bannocks, spun our wool, And counted each bawbee. We reft our living from the soil, And I was shieling bred; My father’s hands were warped with toil, And […]...
4. Village Don Juan Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun; And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me; Ice-blue eyes on every hand, Handsomest youngsters in the land. “Old Stud Horse” they say of me, But back of my beard I laugh with glee. […]...
5. Manufactured Gods THEY put up big wooden gods. Then they burned the big wooden gods And put up brass gods and Changing their minds suddenly Knocked down the brass gods and put up A doughface god with gold earrings. The poor mutts, the pathetic slant heads, They didn’t know a little tin god Is as good as […]...
6. The Village Blacksmith Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns […]...
7. The True Encounter “Wolf!” cried my cunning heart At every sheep it spied, And roused the countryside. “Wolf! Wolf!”-and up would start Good neighbours, bringing spade And pitchfork to my aid. At length my cry was known: Therein lay my release. I met the wolf alone And was devoured in peace....
8. Answers I keep my answers small and keep them near; Big questions bruised my mind but still I let Small answers be a bulwark to my fear. The huge abstractions I keep from the light; Small things I handled and caressed and loved. I let the stars assume the whole of night. But the big answers […]...
9. If It Is True What the Prophets Write If it is true, what the Prophets write, That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones, Shall we, for the sake of being polite, Feed them with the juice of our marrow-bones? And if Bezaleel and Aholiab drew What the finger of God pointed to their view, Shall we suffer the Roman and Grecian […]...
10. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
11. Illustrious Ancestors The Rav Of Northern White Russia declined, In his youth, to learn the Language of birds, because The extraneous did not interest him; nevertheless When he grew old it was found He understood them anyway, having Listened well, and as it is said, ‘prayed With the bench and the floor.’ He used What was at […]...
12. To My Brother George Many the wonders I this day have seen: The sun, when first he kissed away the tears That filled the eyes of Morn;-the laurelled peers Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;- The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, Its voice mysterious, which […]...
13. The Village Garden To E. M. S. Here, where your garden fenced about and still is, Here, where the unmoved summer air is sweet With mixed delight of lavender and lilies, Dreaming I linger in the noontide heat. Of many summers are the trees recorders, The turf a carpet many summers wove; Old-fashioned blossoms cluster in the borders, […]...
14. The Father Of Toads A man had just delivered a toad from his wife’s armpit. He Held it by its legs and spanked it. Do you love it? said his wife. It’s our child, isn’t it? Does that mean you can’t love it? she said. It’s hard enough to love a toad, but when it turns out to be […]...
15. Queen Mab in the Village Once I loved a fairy, Queen Mab it was. Her voice Was like a little Fountain That bids the birds rejoice. Her face was wise and solemn, Her hair was brown and fine. Her dress was pansy velvet, A butterfly design. To see her hover round me Or walk the hills of air, Awakened love’s […]...
16. Very Like a Whale One thing that literature would be greatly the better for Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and Metaphor. Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts, Can’t seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to Go out of their way to […]...
17. The Deserted Village Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid, And parting summer’s lingering blooms delayed: Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, where every sport could please, How often have I loitered o’er your green, Where humble happiness […]...
18. An Address to the Rev. George Gilfillan All hail to the Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee, He is the greatest preacher I did ever hear or see. He is a man of genius bright, And in him his congregation does delight, Because they find him to be honest and plain, Affable in temper, and seldom known to complain. He preaches in a […]...
19. The Illinois Village O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones of fear, Who weep that Liberty must die, Turn to the little prairie towns, Your higher hope shall yet begin. On every side awaits you there Some gate where glory enters in. Yet when I […]...
20. Deborah's Parrot, a Village Tale ‘Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt: Her name was MISS, or MISTRESS, Brown, Or DEBORAH, or DEBBY: She Was doom’d a Spinster pure to be, For soft delights her breast ne’er felt: Yet, she had watchful Ears and Eyes For ev’ry youthful neighbour, And never did she cease to labour A […]...
21. 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 […]...
22. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
23. The Village Scarcely a street, too few houses To merit the title; just a way between The one tavern and the one shop That leads nowhere and fails at the top Of the short hill, eaten away By long erosion of the green tide Of grass creeping perpetually nearer This last outpost of time past. So little […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. I often passed the village I often passed the village When going home from school And wondered what they did there And why it was so still I did not know the year then In which my call would come Earlier, by the Dial, Than the rest have gone. It’s stiller than the sundown. It’s cooler than the dawn The […]...
26. The Village Green On the cheerful village green, Skirted round with houses small, All the boys and girls are seen, Playing there with hoop and ball. Now they frolic hand in hand, Making many a merry chain; Then they form a warlike band, Marching o’er the level plain. Now ascends the worsted ball, High it rises in the […]...
27. Village Virtue Jenny was my first sweetheart; Poor lass! she was none too smart. Though I swore she’d never rue it, She would never let me do it. When I tried she mad a fuss, So damn pure and virtuous. Girls should cozen all they can, Use their wiles to get their man. June, my second, was […]...
28. Village Song HONEY, child, honey, child, whither are you going? Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing? Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you? Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you? Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going, Where upon the champa […]...
29. Village Mystery The woman in the pointed hood And cloak blue-gray like a pigeon’s wing, Whose orchard climbs to the balsam-wood, Has done a cruel thing. To her back door-step came a ghost, A girl who had been ten years dead, She stood by the granite hitching-post And begged for a piece of bread. Now why should […]...
30. VII. At a Village in Scotland O NORTH! as thy romantic vales I leave, And bid farewell to each retiring hill, Where thoughtful fancy seems to linger still, Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve That mingled with the toiling croud, no more I shall return, your varied views to mark, Of rocks winding wild, and mountains hoar, Or castle […]...
31. Romulus and Remus Oh, little did the Wolf-Child care When first he planned his home, What City should arise and bear The weight and state of Rome. A shiftless, westward-wandering tramp, Checked by the Tiber flood, He reared a wall around his camp Of uninspired mud. But when his brother leaped the Wall And mocked its height and […]...
32. THE MOUNTAIN VILLAGE “THE mountain village was destroy’d; But see how soon is fill’d the void! Shingles and boards, as by magic arise, The babe in his cradle and swaddling-clothes lies; How blest to trust to God’s protection!” Behold a wooden new erection, So that, if sparks and wind but choose, God’s self at such a game must […]...
33. The Village Atheist Ye young debaters over the doctrine Of the soul’s immortality I who lie here was the village atheist, Talkative, contentious, versed in the arguments Of the infidels. But through a long sickness Coughing myself to death I read the Upanishads and the poetry of Jesus. And they lighted a torch of hope and intuition And […]...
34. The Dead Village Here there is death. But even here, they say, Here where the dull sun shines this afternoon As desolate as ever the dead moon Did glimmer on dead Sardis, men were gay; And there were little children here to play, With small soft hands that once did keep in tune The strings that stretch from […]...
35. Why Washington Retreated 1775 Said Congress to George Washington: “To set this country free, You’ll have to whip the Britishers And chase them o’er the sea.” “Oh, very well,” said Washington, “I’ll do the best I can. I’ll slam and bang those Britishers And whip them to a man.” 1777 Said Congress to George Washington: “The people all […]...
36. Beautiful Village of Penicuik The village of Penicuik, with its neighbouring spinning mills, Is most lovely to see, and the Pentland Hills; And though of a barren appearance and some parts steep, They are covered with fine pasture and sustain flocks of sheep. There, tourists while there should take a good look, By viewing the surrounding beauties of Penicuik; […]...
37. The Village of Tayport and Its Surroundings All ye pleasure-seekers, where’er ye be, I pray ye all be advised by me, Go and visit Tayport on the banks o’ the Tay, And there ye can spend a pleasant holiday. The village and its surroundings are magnificent to be seen, And the shops on the High Street are tidy and clean, And the […]...
38. In the Valley of Cauteretz All along the valley, stream that flashest white, Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night, All along the valley, where thy waters flow, I walk’d with one I loved two and thirty years ago. All along the valley, while I walk’d to-day, The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away; […]...
39. Faith Healing Slowly the women file to where he stands Upright in rimless glasses, silver hair, Dark suit, white collar. Stewards tirelessly Persuade them onwards to his voice and hands, Within whose warm spring rain of loving care Each dwells some twenty seconds. Now, dear child, What’s wrong, the deep American voice demands, And, scarcely pausing, goes […]...
40. Brass Keys JOY… weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel… painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face… slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering till at last the door gives and we are in a new room… forever and ever violet petals, slabs, the Christ face, brass keys and new […]...