The House Was Quiet And The World Was Calm

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1. The Quiet Eye THE ORB I like is not the one That dazzles with its lightning gleam; That dares to look upon the sun, As though it challenged brighter beam. That orb may sparkle, flash, and roll; Its fire may blaze, its shaft may fly; But not for me: I prize the soul That slumbers in a quiet […]...
2. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
3. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm is the morn without a sound Calm is the morn without a sound, Calm as to suit a calmer grief, And only thro’ the faded leaf The chestnut pattering to the ground: Calm and deep peace on this high wold, And on these dews that drench the furze. And all the silvery gossamers That twinkle into green and gold: Calm and […]...
4. 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 […]...
5. She went as quiet as the Dew She went as quiet as the Dew From an Accustomed flower. Not like the Dew, did she return At the Accustomed hour! She dropt as softly as a star From out my summer’s Eve Less skillful than Le Verriere It’s sorer to believe!...
6. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
7. Youth and Calm ‘Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There’s nothing can dismarble now The smoothness of that limpid brow. But is a calm like this, in truth, The crowning end of life and youth, And when this boon rewards the dead, Are all debts paid, has all been […]...
8. I was the slightest in the House I was the slightest in the House I took the smallest Room At night, my little Lamp, and Book And one Geranium So stationed I could catch the Mint That never ceased to fall And just my Basket Let me think I’m sure That this was all I never spoke unless addressed And then, ’twas […]...
9. This quiet Dust was Gentleman and Ladies This quiet Dust was Gentleman and Ladies And Lads and Girls Was laughter and ability and Sighing And Frocks and Curls. This Passive Place a Summer’s nimble mansion Where Bloom and Bees Exists an Oriental Circuit Then cease, like these...
10. It was a quiet way It was a quiet way He asked if I was his I made no answer of the Tongue But answer of the Eyes And then He bore me on Before this mortal noise With swiftness, as of Chariots And distance, as of Wheels. This World did drop away As Acres from the feet Of one […]...
11. I Go Back To The House For A Book I turn around on the gravel And go back to the house for a book, Something to read at the doctor’s office, And while I am inside, running the finger Of inquisition along a shelf, Another me that did not bother To go back to the house for a book Heads out on his own, […]...
12. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
13. The Fair Maid of Perth's House All ye good people, afar and near, To my request pray lend an ear; I advise you all without delay to go And see the Fair Maid’s House – it is a rare show. Some of the chairs there are very grand, They have been cut and carved by a skilful hand; And kings, perchance, […]...
14. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 02: The Screen Maiden You read-what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand turns the page. I watch you from my window, unsuspected: You move in an alien land, a silent age. . . . . . The poet-what was his name-? Tokkei-Tokkei- The poet walked alone in […]...
15. Holy Sonnet V: I Am A Little World Made Cunningly I am a little world made cunningly Of elements, and an angelic sprite; But black sin hath betrayed to endless night My worlds both parts, and (oh!) both parts must die. You which beyond that heaven which was most high Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write, Pour new seas in mine […]...
16. The Shepherd And The Calm Soothing his Passions with a warb’ling Sound, A Shepherd-Swain lay stretch’d upon the Ground; Whilst all were mov’d, who their Attention lent, Or with the Harmony in Chorus went, To something less than Joy, yet more than dull Content. (Between which two Extreams true Pleasure lies, O’er-run by Fools, unreach’d-at by the Wise ) But […]...
17. The House In The Woods At the back of the houses there is the wood. While there is a leaf of summer left, the wood Makes sounds I can put somewhere in my song, Has paths I can walk, when I wake, to good Or evil: to the cage, to the oven, to the House In the Wood. It is […]...
18. The Ancient World Today the Masons are auctioning Their discarded pomp: a trunk of turbans, Gemmed and ostrich-plumed, and operetta costumes Labeled inside the collar “Potentate” And “Vizier.” Here their chairs, blazoned With the Masons’ sign, huddled Like convalescents, lean against one another On the grass. In a casket are rhinestoned poles The hierophants carried in parades; Here’s […]...
19. The World And I This is not exactly what I mean Any more than the sun is the sun. But how to mean more closely If the sun shines but approximately? What a world of awkwardness! What hostile implements of sense! Perhaps this is as close a meaning As perhaps becomes such knowing. Else I think the world and […]...
20. The House with Nobody in It Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black. I suppose I’ve passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for A minute And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in It. I never have seen […]...
21. Golden Days Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain To make of as I may, That done, I shall not see again Until the Judgment Day. Ah, could I, could I backward turn The pages of that […]...
22. An Afternoon In The Stacks Closing the book, I find I have left my head Inside. It is dark in here, but the chapters open Their beautiful spaces and give a rustling sound, Words adjusting themselves to their meaning. Long passages open at successive pages. An echo, Continuous from the title onward, hums Behind me. From in here, the world […]...
23. In these quiet moments In these quiet moments before the night Softens the mountains of the South And deflates the clouds That float beneath their peaks, The dying sun’s rich, peach glow Deepens in the gathering gloom. There, where the mists stretch A false horizon between the sea And the land’s end Aratika glides across the trackless strait And […]...
24. A Baby In The House I knew that a baby was hid in that house, Though I saw no cradle and heard no cry; But the husband was tip-toeing ’round like a mouse, And the good wife was humming a soft lullaby; And there was a look on the face of the mother, That I knew could mean only one […]...
25. A Sunset of the City Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love. My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls, Are gone from the house. My husband and lovers are pleasant or somewhat polite And night is night. It is a real chill out, The genuine thing. I am not deceived, I […]...
26. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10: Letter From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,- And turns to write. . . The clock, behind ticks softly. It is so long, indeed, since I have written,- Two years, almost, your last is turning yellow,- […]...
27. City Dead-House, The BY the City Dead-House, by the gate, As idly sauntering, wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause-for lo! an outcast form, a poor dead prostitute brought; Her corpse they deposit unclaim’d-it lies on the damp brick pavement; The divine woman, her body-I see the Body-I look on it alone, That house once full […]...
28. It was a quiet seeming Day It was a quiet seeming Day There was no harm in earth or sky Till with the closing sun There strayed an accidental Red A Strolling Hue, one would have said To westward of the Town But when the Earth began to jar And Houses vanished with a roar And Human Nature hid We comprehended […]...
29. Just Keep Quiet and Nobody Will Notice There is one thing that ought to be taught in all the colleges, Which is that people ought to be taught not to go around always making apologies. I don’t mean the kind of apologies people make when they run over you or borrow five dollars or step on your feet, Because I think that […]...
30. The Deserted House Life and Thought have gone away Side by side, Leaving door and windows wide. Careless tenants they! All within is dark as night: In the windows is no light; And no murmur at the door, So frequent on its hinge before. Close the door; the shutters close; Or through the windows we shall see The […]...
31. The Story Of Our Lives 1 We are reading the story of our lives Which takes place in a room. The room looks out on a street. There is no one there, No sound of anything. The tress are heavy with leaves, The parked cars never move. We keep turning the pages, hoping for something, Something like mercy or change, […]...
32. Dream Song 74: Henry hates the world. What the world to Henry Henry hates the world. What the world to Henry Did will not bear thought. Feeling no pain, Henry stabbed his arm and wrote a letter Explaining how bad it had been In this world. Old yellow, in a gown Might have made a difference, ‘these lower beauties’, And chartreuse could have mattered “Kyoto, Toledo, Benares—the […]...
33. Patience has a quiet Outer Patience has a quiet Outer Patience Look within Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites between ‘Scaping one against the other Fruitlesser to fling Patience is the Smile’s exertion Through the quivering...
34. Baby's World I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby’s very Own world. I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops Down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows. Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if […]...
35. Who occupies this House? Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstance ‘Tis well the name and age Are writ upon the Door Or I should fear to pause Where not so much as Honest Dog Approach encourages. It seems a curious Town Some Houses very old, Some newly raised this Afternoon, […]...
36. The house where I was born (03) I woke up, it was the house where I was born, It was night, trees were crowding On all sides around our door, I was alone on the doorstep in the cold wind, No, not alone, for two huge beings Were speaking to each other above me, through me. One, behind, an old woman, stooped, […]...
37. The World Some are the brothers of all humankind, And own them, whatsoever their estate; And some, for sorrow and self-scorn, are blind With enmity for man’s unguarded fate. For some there is a music all day long Like flutes in Paradise, they are so glad; And there is hell’s eternal under-song Of curses and the cries […]...
38. Here Here I am in the garden laughing An old woman with heavy breasts And a nicely mapped face How did this happen Well that’s who I wanted to be At last a woman In the old style sitting Stout thighs apart under A big skirt grandchild sliding On off my lap a pleasant Summer perspiration […]...
39. A Song I had wanted a quiet testament And I had wanted, among other things, A song. That was to be Of a like monotony. (A grace Simply. Very very quiet. A murmur of some lost Thrush, though I have never seen one. Which was you then. Sitting And so, at peace, so very much now this […]...
40. Tranquilism I call myself a Tranquilist; With deep detachment I exist, From friction free; While others court the gilded throng And worship Women, Wine and Song, I scorn the three. For I have reached the sober age When I prefer to turn a page Beside the fire, And from the busy mart of men To meditative […]...