Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Paramour
Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.
This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:
Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.
Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.
Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one…
How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.
Related poetry:
- Rendezvous I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And […]...
- A final journeying Steve is gone, I hardly can believe The man wont cry again, I cannot credit that His energy wont bloom And burst the candid pane That kept us so aware of just How much he really, really cared. I grieve for Bindi Sue And Robert who’ll despair, For Terri who has lost the man With […]...
- The Bachelor's Soliloquy To wed, or not to wed; that is the question; Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The bills and house rent of a wedded fortune, Or to say “nit” when she proposes, And by declining cut her. To wed; to smoke No more; And have a wife at home to mend The holes […]...
- I Have A Rendezvous With Death I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air – I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my […]...
- Interior Her mind lives in a quiet room, A narrow room, and tall, With pretty lamps to quench the gloom And mottoes on the wall. There all the things are waxen neat And set in decorous lines; And there are posies, round and sweet, And little, straightened vines. Her mind lives tidily, apart From cold and […]...
- A Soliloquy Of The Full Moon, She Being In A Mad Passion Now as Heaven is my Lot, they’re the Pests of the Nation! Wherever they can come With clankum and blankum ‘Tis all Botheration, & Hell & Damnation, With fun, jeering Conjuring Sky-staring, Loungering, And still to the tune of Transmogrification Those muttering Spluttering Ventriloquogusty Poets With no Hats Or Hats that are rusty. They’re my […]...
- Forget Not Yet Forget not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant My great travail so gladly spent Forget not yet. Forget not yet when first began The weary life ye knew, since whan The suit, the service, none tell can, Forget not yet. Forget not yet the great assays, The cruel wrongs, […]...
- To One Shortly to Die 1 FROM all the rest I single out you, having a message for you: You are to die-Let others tell you what they please, I cannot prevaricate, I am exact and merciless, but I love you-There is no escape for you. Softly I lay my right hand upon you-you just feel it, I do not […]...
- The Final Tax Said Statesman A to Statesman Z: “What can we tax that is not paying? We’re taxing every blessed thing- Here’s what our people are defraying: “Tariff tax, income tax, Tax on retail sales, Club tax, school tax, Tax on beers and ales, “City tax, county tax, Tax on obligations, War tax. wine tax, Tax on […]...
- Her final Summer was it Her final Summer was it And yet We guessed it not If tenderer industriousness Pervaded Her, We thought A further force of life Developed from within When Death lit all the shortness up It made the hurry plain We wondered at our blindness When nothing was to see But Her Carrara Guide post At Our […]...
- The Final Poem A forge burns in my heart. I am redder than dawn, Deeper than seaweed, More distant than gulls, More hollow than wells. But I only give birth To seeds and to shells. My tongue becomes tangled in words: I no longer speak white, Nor utter black, Nor whisper gray of a wind-worn cliff, Barely do […]...
- Interior It sheds a shy solemnity, This lamp in our poor room. O grey and gold amenity, Silence and gentle gloom! Wide from the world, a stolen hour We claim, and none may know How love blooms like a tardy flower Here in the day’s after-glow. And even should the world break in With jealous threat […]...
- Careless Philosopher's Soliloquy I rise when I please, when I please I lie down, Nor seek, what I care not a rush for, renown; The rattle called wealth I have learnt to despise, Nor aim to be either important or wise. Let women & children & children-like men Pursue the false trollop the world has called fame. Who […]...
- Soliloquy Of The Spanish Cloister I. Gr-r-r – there go, my heart’s abhorrence! Water your damned flower-pots, do! If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, God’s blood, would not mine kill you! What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming? Oh, that rose has prior claims – Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? Hell dry you up with its flames! II. At the meal […]...
- Interior IN the cool of the night time The clocks pick off the points And the mainsprings loosen. They will need winding. One of these days… they will need winding. Rabelais in red boards, Walt Whitman in green, Hugo in ten-cent paper covers, Here they stand on shelves In the cool of the night time And […]...
- 115. The Farewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, Tarbolton ADIEU! a heart-warm fond adieu; Dear brothers of the mystic tie! Ye favourèd, enlighten’d few, Companions of my social joy; Tho’ I to foreign lands must hie, Pursuing Fortune’s slidd’ry ba’; With melting heart, and brimful eye, I’ll mind you still, tho’ far awa. Oft have I met your social band, And spent the cheerful, […]...
- Soliloquy in Circles Being a father Is quite a bother. You are as free as air With time to spare, You’re a fiscal rocket With change in your pocket, And then one morn A child is born. Your life has been runcible, Irresponsible, Like an arrow or javelin You’ve been constantly travelin’. But mostly, I daresay, Without a […]...
- Journey Into The Interior In the long journey out of the self, There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places Where the shale slides dangerously And the back wheels hang almost over the edge At the sudden veering, the moment of turning. Better to hug close, wary of rubble and falling stones. The arroyo cracking the road, the wind-bitten […]...
- Venetian Interior Allegra, rising from her canopied dreams, Slides both white feet across the slanted beams Which lace the peacock jalousies: behold An idol of fine clay, with feet of gold...
- Interior Portrait You don’t survive in me Because of memories; Nor are you mine because Of a lovely longing’s strength. What does make you present Is the ardent detour That a slow tenderness Traces in my blood. I do not need To see you appear; Being born sufficed for me To lose you a little less....
- The Heart is the Capital of the Mind The Heart is the Capital of the Mind The Mind is a single State The Heart and the Mind together make A single Continent One is the Population Numerous enough This ecstatic Nation Seek it is Yourself....
- Modernities Small knowledge have we that by knowledge met May not some day be quaint as any told In almagest or chronicle of old, Whereat we smile because we are as yet The last-though not the last who may forget What cleavings and abrasions manifold Have marked an armor that was never scrolled Before for human […]...
- 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 […]...
- 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 […]...
- 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 […]...
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: The Prelude Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove; Thine are these orbs of light and shade; Thou madest Life in man and brute; Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made. […]...
- Southampton water song of sea-leaves in an orchestra of foam Branches of violins sprayed across the mind What is magnetic in a wave breaking white Drawing the chords of evening to a single sound I would liken your hair to a slow movement Of seagulls in the wind catching my eye By sheer virtue of design – […]...
- The Recall I am the land of their fathers, In me the virtue stays. I will bring back my children, After certain days. Under their feet in the grasses My clinging magic runs. They shall return as strangers. They shall remain as sons. Over their heads in the branches Of their new-bought, ancient trees, I weave an […]...
- The Tenant-For-Life The sun said, watching my watering-pot “Some morn you’ll pass away; These flowers and plants I parch up hot – Who’ll water them that day? “Those banks and beds whose shape your eye Has planned in line so true, New hands will change, unreasoning why Such shape seemed best to you. “Within your house will […]...
- By A Swimming Pool Outside Syracusa All afternoon I have been struggling To communicate in Italian With Roberto and Giuseppe, who have begun To resemble the two male characters In my Italian for Beginners, The ones who are always shopping Or inquiring about the times of trains, And now I can hardly speak or write English. I have made important pronouncements […]...
- To a Little Girl That Has Told a Lie AND has my darling told a lie? Did she forget that GOD was by? That GOD, who saw the things she did, From whom no action can be hid; Did she forget that GOD could see And hear, wherever she might be? He made your eyes, and can discern Whichever way you think to turn; […]...
- Did I Not Say To You Did I not say to you, “Go not there, for I am your friend; in this Mirage of annihilation I am the fountain of life?” Even though in anger you depart a hundred thousand years From me, in the end you will come to me, for I am your goal. Did I not say to […]...
- Heart! We will forget him! Heart! We will forget him! You and I tonight! You may forget the warmth he gave I will forget the light! When you have done, pray tell me That I may straight begin! Haste! lest while you’re lagging I remember him!...
- You, Andrew Marvell And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth’s noonward height To feel the always coming on The always rising of the night To feel creep up the curving east The earthy chill of dusk and slow Upon those under lands the vast And ever climbing shadow grow And strange at Ecbatan the […]...
- SOUND, SWEET SONG SOUND, sweet song, from some far land, Sighing softly close at hand, Now of joy, and now of woe! Stars are wont to glimmer so. Sooner thus will good unfold; Children young and children old Gladly hear thy numbers flow. 1820.* – * In the cases in which the date is marked thus (*), it […]...
- The People ‘What have I earned for all that work,’ I said, ‘For all that I have done at my own charge? The daily spite of this unmannerly town, Where who has served the most is most defaned, The reputation of his lifetime lost Between the night and morning. I might have lived, And you know well […]...
- By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
- 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 […]...
- POETRY GOD to his untaught children sent Law, order, knowledge, art, from high, And ev’ry heav’nly favour lent, The world’s hard lot to qualify. They knew not how they should behave, For all from Heav’n stark-naked came; But Poetry their garments gave, And then not one had cause for shame. 1816....
- In Trouble 1 It’s all for nothing: I’ve lost im now. 2 I suppose it ad to be: 3 But oh I never thought it of im, 4 Nor e never thought it of me. 5 And all for a kiss on your evening out 6 An a field where the grass was down… 7 And e […]...