To the East and to the West

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1. The Ballad of East and West Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, tho’ they come from the ends of the earth! Kamal […]...
2. Star of the east Star of the East, that long ago Brought wise men on their way Where, angels singing to and fro, The Child of Bethlehem lay Above that Syrian hill afar Thou shinest out to-night, O Star! Star of the East, the night were drear But for the tender grace That with thy glory comes to cheer […]...
3. As Watchers hang upon the East As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread As brooks in deserts babble sweet On ear too far for the delight, Heaven beguiles the tired. As that same watcher, when the East Opens the lid of Amethyst And lets the morning go That Beggar, when an honored […]...
4. His Mind like Fabrics of the East His Mind like Fabrics of the East Displayed to the despair Of everyone but here and there An humble Purchaser For though his price was not of Gold More arduous there is That one should comprehend the worth Was all the price there was...
5. Who is the East? Who is the East? The Yellow Man Who may be Purple if He can That carries in the Sun. Who is the West? The Purple Man Who may be Yellow if He can That lets Him out again....
6. To the bright east she flies To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things, Enticed to come. Fashioning what she is, Fathoming what she was, We deem we dream And that dissolves the days Through which existence strays Homeless at home....
7. A little East of Jordan A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard Till morning touching mountain And Jacob, waxing strong, The Angel begged permission To Breakfast to return Not so, said cunning Jacob! “I will not let thee go Except thou bless me” Stranger! The which acceded to Light swung […]...
8. West London Crouch’d on the pavement close by Belgrave Square A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied; A babe was in her arms, and at her side A girl; their clothes were rags, their feet were bare. Some labouring men, whose work lay somewhere there, Pass’d opposite; she touch’d her girl, who hied Across, and begg’d […]...
9. The Winds Out of the West Land Blow The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying […]...
10. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
11. To a foil'd European Revolutionaire 1 COURAGE yet! my brother or my sister! Keep on! Liberty is to be subserv’d, whatever occurs; That is nothing, that is quell’d by one or two failures, or any number of failures, Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or by any unfaithfulness, Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, […]...
12. London Voluntaries IV: Out of the Poisonous East Out of the poisonous East, Over a continent of blight, Like a maleficent Influence released From the most squalid cellerage of hell, The Wind-Fiend, the abominable The Hangman Wind that tortures temper and light Comes slouching, sullen and obscene, Hard on the skirts of the embittered night; And in a cloud unclean Of excremental humours, […]...
13. Ode To The West Wind I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: 0 thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each […]...
14. Memories of West Street and Lepke Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming In pajamas fresh from the washer each morning, I hog a whole house on Boston’s “hardly passionate Marlborough Street,” Where even the man Scavenging filth in the back alley trash cans, Has two children, a beach wagon, a helpmate, And is “a young Republican.” I have a nine months’ daughter, […]...
15. Four Quartets 2: East Coker I In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is […]...
16. Facing West from California’s Shores FACING west, from California’s shores, Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my Western Sea-the circle almost circled; For, starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere, From Asia-from the north-from […]...
17. Noon I bend to the ground To catch Something whispered, Urgent, drifting Across the ditches. The heaviness of Flies stuttering In orbit, dirt Ripening, the sweat Of eggs. There are Small streams The width ofa thumb Running in the villages Of sheaves, whole Eras of grain Wakening on The stalks, a roof That breathes over My […]...
18. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
19. The Other Under my bowels, yellow with smoke, It waits. Under my eyes, those milk bunnies, It waits. It is waiting. It is waiting. Mr. Doppelganger. My brother. My spouse. Mr. Doppelganger. My enemy. My lover. When truth comes spilling out like peas It hangs up the phone. When the child is soothed and resting on the […]...
20. East London ‘Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through his windows seen In Spitalfields, looked thrice dispirited. I met a preacher there I knew, and said: “Ill and o’erworked, how fare you in this scene?”- “Bravely!” said he; “for I of late have been […]...
21. Escaping backward to perceive Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace Retreating up, a Billow’s height Retreating blinded down Our undermining feet to meet Instructs to the Divine....
22. Something Left Undone Labor with what zeal we will, Something still remains undone, Something uncompleted still Waits the rising of the sun. By the bedside, on the stair, At the threshhold, near the gates, With its menace or its prayer, Like a medicant it waits; Waits, and will not go away; Waits, and will not be gainsaid; By […]...
23. East India Grill Villanelle Across the table, Bridget sneaks a smile; She’s caught me staring past her at the man Who brings us curried dishes, hot and mild. His eyes are blue, intensely blue, hot sky; His hair, dark gold; his skin like cinnamon. He speaks in quick-soft accents; Bridget smiles. We’ve come here in our summer skirts, heels […]...
24. First Sight Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro All they find, outside the fold, Is a wretched width of cold. As they wait beside the ewe, Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies Hidden round them, […]...
25. On a Lady Throwing Snow-Balls at Her Lover [From the Latin of Petronious Ascanius.] When, wanton fair, the snowy orb you throw, I feel a fire before unknown in snow. E’en coldest snow I find has pow’r to warm My breast, when flung by Julia’s lovely arm. T’elude love’s pow’rful arts I strive in vain, If ice and snow can latent fires contain. […]...
26. The Sun Was Slumbering in the West The sun was slumbering in the West, My daily labors past; On Anna’s soft and gentle breast My head reclined at last; The darkness closed around, so dear To fond congenial souls, And thus she murmur’d at my ear, “My love, we’re out of coals! “That Mister Bond has call’d again, Insisting on his rent; […]...
27. The Man Rock A man is a rock in a garden of chairs and waits For a longtime to be over. It is easier for a rock in a garden than a man Inside his mother. He decided to be a rock when He got outside. A rock asks only what is a rock. A rock waits to […]...
28. Still, though the One I Sing STILL, though the one I sing, (One, yet of contradictions made,) I dedicate to Nationality, I leave in him Revolt, (O latent right of insurrection! O quenchless, indispensable fire!)...
29. To Thee, Old Cause! TO thee, old Cause! Thou peerless, passionate, good cause! Thou stern, remorseless, sweet Idea! Deathless throughout the ages, races, lands! After a strange, sad war-great war for thee, (I think all war through time was really fought, and ever will be really fought, for thee;) These chants for thee-the eternal march of thee. Thou orb […]...
30. The West Wind Beneath the forest’s skirts I rest, Whose branching pines rise dark and high, And hear the breezes of the West Among the threaded foliage sigh. Sweet Zephyr! why that sound of wo? Is not thy home among the flowers? Do not the bright June roses blow, To meet thy kiss at morning hours? And lo! […]...
31. Journey West I said Goodbye To Beale Street one year, Eyes hurting From the painful contrast Of stark white on black – Dividing-lines with No intervening warm colors. West of the Mississippi The Trail of Tears Meanders, Silent imitation Of the great river, A different culture’s Babylon Although dry now, Bones’ dust Underneath retreating feet. Trading riverbanks […]...
32. West Riding Bright sari in a darkened street – The lilting grey of Yorkshire sky; Rust requiems for demolished mills – Repeating grooves of curlew’s cry. And did Jane once sit on this stile And watch the moon look down on Hay, And see the dog and hear the horse Send icy clatters through the grey? Then […]...
33. The West Wind IT’S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills. And April’s in the west wind, and daffodils. It’s a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine, […]...
34. The Idea Of Order At Key West She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, That was not ours although we understood, Inhuman, of the veritable ocean. The sea was not a mask. […]...
35. These held their Wick above the West These held their Wick above the West Till when the Red declined Or how the Amber aided it Defied to be defined Then waned without disparagement In a dissembling Hue That would not let the Eye decide Did it abide or no...
36. Sonnet On The Death Of Mr Richard West In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And redd’ning Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join; Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: These ears, alas! for other notes repine, A different object do these eyes require: My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my […]...
37. A Poetry Reading At West Point I read to the entire plebe class, In two batches. Twice the hall filled With bodies dressed alike, each toting A copy of my book. What would my Shrink say, if I had one, about Such a dream, if it were a dream? Question and answer time. “Sir,” a cadet yelled from the balcony, And […]...
38. 116. On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies A’ YE wha live by sowps o’ drink, A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink, A’ ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi’ me! Our billie ‘s gien us a’ a jink, An’ owre the sea! Lament him a’ ye rantin core, Wha dearly like a random splore; Nae mair he’ll join the merry […]...
39. A Catalpa Tree On West Twelfth Street While the sun stops, or Seems to, to define a term For the indeterminable, The human aspect, here In the West Village, spindles To a mutilated dazzle- Niched shards of solitude Embedded in these brownstone Walkups such that the Hudson At the foot of Twelfth Street Might be a thing that’s Done with mirrors: definition […]...
40. Fragment At last I entered a long dark gallery, Catacomb-lined; and ranged at the side Were the bodies of men from far and wide Who, motion past, were nevertheless not dead. “The sense of waiting here strikes strong; Everyone’s waiting, waiting, it seems to me; What are you waiting for so long? What is to happen?” […]...