Boaz Asleep

Related poetry:

1. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: And let there glide by many a pearly car Pink robes, and wavy hair, and […]...
2. A Child Asleep How he sleepeth! having drunken Weary childhood’s mandragore, From his pretty eyes have sunken Pleasures, to make room for more – Sleeping near the withered nosegay, which he pulled the day before. Nosegays! leave them for the waking: Throw them earthward where they grew. Dim are such, beside the breaking Amaranths he looks unto – […]...
3. Sonnet 153: Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep, A maid of Dian’s this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love A dateless lively heat still to endure, And grew a seeting bath, which yet men prove Against strange […]...
4. Asleep Under his helmet, up against his pack, After the many days of work and waking, Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back. And in the happy no-time of his sleeping, Death took him by the heart. There was a quaking Of the aborted life within him leaping… Then chest and sleepy arms […]...
5. Falling Asleep Voices moving about in the quiet house: Thud of feet and a muffled shutting of doors: Everyone yawning. Only the clocks are alert. Out in the night there’s autumn-smelling gloom Crowded with whispering trees; across the park A hollow cry of hounds like lonely bells: And I know that the clouds are moving across the […]...
6. A Baby Asleep after Pain As a drenched, drowned bee Hangs numb and heavy from a bending flower, So clings to me My baby, her brown hair brushed with wet tears And laid against her cheek; Her soft white legs hanging heavily over my arm Swinging heavily to my movements as I walk. My sleeping baby hangs upon my life, […]...
7. When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb When I am asleep and crumbling in the tomb, should you come To visit me, I will come forth with speed. You are for me the blast of the trumpet and the resurrection, So what shall I do? Dead or living, wherever you are, there am I. Without your lip I am a frozen and […]...
8. Sonnet 154: The little Love-god lying once asleep The little love god lying once asleep Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand, The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warmed, And so the general of hot desire Was sleeping […]...
9. The Blue Swallows Across the millstream below the bridge Seven blue swallows divide the air In shapes invisible and evanescent, Kaleidoscopic beyond the mind’s Or memory’s power to keep them there. “History is where tensions were,” “Form is the diagram of forces.” Thus, helplessly, there on the bridge, While gazing down upon those birds – How strange, to […]...
10. LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, ‘Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown; Still I write a sweet-heart down. Be she rough, or smooth of skin; When I touch, I then begin For to let affection in. Be she […]...
11. Climbing West Of Lotus Flower Peak Amongst the grandeur of Hua Shan I climb to the Flower Peak, And fancy I see fairies and immortals Carrying lotus in their Sacred white hands, robes flowing They fly filling the sky with colour As they rise to the palace of heaven, Inviting me to go to the cloud stage And see Wei Shu-ching, […]...
12. Players Ask For A Blessing On The Psalteries And On Themselves Three Voices [together]. Hurry to bless the hands that play, The mouths that speak, the notes and strings, O masters of the glittering town! O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, Though drunken with the flags that sway Over the ramparts and the towers, And with the waving of your wings. First Voice. Maybe they linger […]...
13. To His Honoured and Most Ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Cotton For brave comportment, wit without offence, Words fully flowing, yet of influence: Thou art that man of men, the man alone, Worthy the public admiration: Who with thine own eyes read’st what we do write, And giv’st our numbers euphony, and weight. Tell’st when a verse springs high, how understood To be, or not born […]...
14. The Water-Fall 1 With what deep murmurs through time’s silent stealth 2 Doth thy transparent, cool, and wat’ry wealth 3 Here flowing fall, 4 And chide, and call, 5 As if his liquid, loose retinue stay’d 6 Ling’ring, and were of this steep place afraid; 7 The common pass 8 Where, clear as glass, 9 All must […]...
15. God's Judgment on a Wicked Bishop The summer and autumn had been so wet, That in winter the corn was growing yet, ‘Twas a piteous sight to see all around The grain lie rotting on the ground. Every day the starving poor Crowded around Bishop Hatto’s door, For he had a plentiful last-year’s store, And all the neighbourhood could tell His […]...
16. Psalm 87 Among the holy Mountains high Is his foundation fast, There Seated in his Sanctuary, His Temple there is plac’t. Sions fair Gates the Lord loves more Then all the dwellings faire Of Jacobs Land, though there be store, And all within his care. City of God, most glorious things Of thee abroad are spoke; I […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. Cultural Evolution When from his cave, young Mao in his youthful mind A work to renew old China first designed, Then he alone interpreted the law, And from tradtional fountains scorned to draw: But when to examine every part he came, Marx and Confucius turned out much the same....
19. The Sluggard A jar of cider and my pipe, In summer, under shady tree; A book by one that made his mind Live by its sweet simplicity: Then must I laugh at kings who sit In richest chambers, signing scrolls; And princes cheered in public ways, And stared at by a thousand fools. Let me be free […]...
20. 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 […]...
21. Ninon De Lenclos, On Her Last Birthday So let me have the rouge again, And comb my hair the curly way. The poor young men, the dear young men They’ll all be here by noon today. And I shall wear the blue, I think- They beg to touch its rippled lace; Or do they love me best in pink, So sweetly flattering […]...
22. A Week Later A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t Think I could ever write about it. Maybe in a year I could write something. There is something in me maybe someday To be written; now it is folded, and folded, And folded, like a note in school. And in my dream Someone was playing […]...
23. Mediums THEY shall arise in the States, They shall report Nature, laws, physiology, and happiness; They shall illustrate Democracy and the kosmos; They shall be alimentive, amative, perceptive; They shall be complete women and men-their pose brawny and supple, their drink water, their blood clean and clear; They shall enjoy materialism and the sight of products-they […]...
24. An Irish Airman Forsees His Death I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My county is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty […]...
25. Our Hired Girl Our hired girl, she’s ‘Lizabuth Ann; An’ she can cook best things to eat! She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, An’ pours in somepin’ ‘at’s good an’ sweet; An’ nen she salts it all on top With cinnamon; an’ nen she’ll stop An’ stoop an’ slide it, ist as slow, In th’ old cook-stove, […]...
26. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
27. Songs of Joy Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy; Sing as a happy bird will sing Beneath a rainbow’s lovely arch In the spring. Think not of death in thy young days; Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear? And fear him not when thou art old, And he is near. Strive not for gold, for […]...
28. Ode To The Onion Onion, Luminous flask, Your beauty formed Petal by petal, Crystal scales expanded you And in the secrecy of the dark earth Your belly grew round with dew. Under the earth The miracle Happened And when your clumsy Green stem appeared, And your leaves were born Like swords In the garden, The earth heaped up her […]...
29. 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 […]...
30. Behind the Scenes The actor struts his little hour, Between the limelight and the band; The public feel the actor’s power, Yet nothing do they understand Of all the touches here and there That make or mar the actor’s part, They never see, beneath the glare, The artist striving after art. To them it seems a labour slight […]...
31. Mohini Chatterjee I asked if I should pray. But the Brahmin said, ‘pray for nothing, say Every night in bed, ‘I have been a king, I have been a slave, Nor is there anything. Fool, rascal, knave, That I have not been, And yet upon my breast A myriad heads have lain.’ That he might Set at […]...
32. Psalm XXXII: Happy the Man Happy the man to whom his God No more imputes his sin, But, washed in the Redeemer’s blood, Hath made his garments clean. Happy beyond expression he Who debts are thus discharged; And from the guilty bondage free, He feels his soul enlarged. His spirit hates deceit and lies, His words are all sincere; He […]...
33. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
34. If I were dead ‘IF I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’ The dear lips quiver’d as they spake, And the tears brake From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled. Poor Child, poor Child! I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song. It is not true that Love will do no wrong. Poor Child! […]...
35. Clorinda And Damon C. Damon come drive thy flocks this way. D. No : ’tis too late they went astray. C. I have a grassy Scutcheon spy’d, Where Flora blazons all her pride. The grass I aim to feast thy Sheep : The Flow’rs I for thy Temples keep. D. Grass withers; and the Flow’rs too fade. C. […]...
36. The King The King beneath the mountains, The King of carven stone, The lord of silver fountains, Shall come into his own! His crown shall be upholden, His harp shall be restrung, His halls shall echo golden, To songs of yore re-sung. The woods shall wave on mountains, And grass beneath the sun; His wealth shall flow […]...
37. Carrion Comfort Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist-slack they may be-these last strands of man In me уr, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be. But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me Thy […]...
38. Historion No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and […]...
39. Brave Coward Elisabeth imagines I’ve A yellow streak She deems I have no dash and drive, Jest dogoned weak. ‘A man should be a man,’ says Liz ‘Trade blow for blow.’ Poor kid! What my position is She jest don’t know. She jest don’t know my old man killed, Yea, slew and slew. As steamy blood he […]...
40. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...