Melmillo

Related poetry:

1. A Song of Enchantment A song of Enchantment I sang me there, In a green-green wood, by waters fair, Just as the words came up to me I sang it under the wild wood tree. Widdershins turned I, singing it low, Watching the wild birds come and go; No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen Under […]...
2. The Keys of Morning While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She slanted her small bead-brown eyes Across the empty street, And saw Death softly watching her In the sunshine pale and sweet. His was a long lean sallow face; He sat with half-shut eyes, […]...
3. Came the Great Popinjay CAME the great Popinjay Smelling his nosegay: In cages like grots The birds sang gavottes. ‘Herodiade’s flea Was named sweet Amanda, She danced like a lady From here to Uganda. Oh, what a dance was there! Long-haired, the candle Salome-like tossed her hair To a dance tune by Handel.’ . . . Dance they still? […]...
4. There is a morn by men unseen There is a morn by men unseen Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their Seraphic May And all day long, with dance and game, And gambol I may never name Employ their holiday. Here to light measure, move the feet Which walk no more the village street Nor by the wood are found Here are […]...
5. Off the Ground Three jolly Farmers Once bet a pound Each dance the others would Off the ground. Out of their coats They slipped right soon, And neat and nicesome Put each his shoon. One Two Three! And away they go, Not too fast, And not too slow; Out from the elm-tree’s Noonday shadow, Into the sun And […]...
6. Farewell (II) Hill at mutual escort stop Day dusk shut wood door Spring grass next year green Prince offspring return not return We bid each other farewell beside the hill, As day meets dusk, I close the wooden gate. Next year, in spring, there will be green grass again, But will my honoured friend return?...
7. The Owl And The Pussy-Cat I The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, ‘O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love, What a beautiful Pussy […]...
8. Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H How still it is! Sunshine itself here Falls In quiet shafts of light through the high trees Which, arching, make a roof above the walls Changing from sun to shadow as each breeze Lingers a moment, charmed by the strange sight Of an Italian theatre, storied, seer Of vague romance, and time’s long history; Where […]...
9. The Red Dance There was a girl Who danced in the city that night, That April 22nd, All along the Charles River. It was as if one hundred men were watching Or do I mean the one hundred eyes of God? The yellow patches in the sycamores Glowed like miniature flashlights. The shadows, the skin of them Were […]...
10. Miss Loo When thin-strewn memory I look through, I see most clearly poor Miss Loo, Her tabby cat, her cage of birds, Her nose, her hair her muffled words, And how she’d open her green eyes, As if in some immense surprise, Whenever as we sat at tea, She made some small remark to me. It’s always […]...
11. Sumach and Birds IF you never came with a pigeon rainbow purple Shining in the six o’clock September dusk: If the red sumach on the autumn roads Never danced on the flame of your eyelashes: If the red-haws never burst in a million Crimson fingertwists of your heartcrying: If all this beauty of yours never crushed me Then […]...
12. The Dancer At Cruachan And Cro-Patrick I, proclaiming that there is Among birds or beasts or men One that is perfect or at peace. Danced on Cruachan’s windy plain, Upon Cro-patrick sang aloud; All that could run or leap or swim Whether in wood, water or cloud, Acclaiming, proclaiming, declaiming Him....
13. Nicholas Nye Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to sprawl In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake, While the birds went twittering by, And nobody there my lone to share But Nicholas Nye. Nicholas Nye was lean […]...
14. Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs No school of long experience, that the world Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of nature. The calm shade Shall bring a […]...
15. The Song Of Shadows “Sweep thy faint strings, Musician, With thy long lean hand; Downward the starry tapers burn, Sinks soft the waning sand; The old hound whimpers couched in sleep, The embers smoulder low; Across the walls the shadows Come, and go. Sweep softly thy strings, Musician, The minutes mount to hours; Frost on the windless casement weaves […]...
16. Fall of the Evening Star Speak softly; sun going down Out of sight. Come near me now. Dear dying fall of wings as birds Complain against the gathering dark… Exaggerate the green blood in grass; The music of leaves scraping space; Multiply the stillness by one sound; By one syllable of your name… And all that is little is soon […]...
17. Strange Are The Ways Of Men STRANGE are the ways of men, And strange the ways of God! We tread the mazy paths That all our fathers trod. We tread them undismayed, And undismayed behold The portents of the sky, The things that were of old. The fiery stars pursue Their course in heav’n on high; And round the ‘leaguered town, […]...
18. Dance Me To The End Of Love Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love Dance me to the end of love Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone […]...
19. I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending […]...
20. Brothers How lovely the elder brother’s Life all laced in the other’s, Lóve-laced!-what once I well Witnessed; so fortune fell. When Shrovetide, two years gone, Our boys’ plays brought on Part was picked for John, Young Jóhn: then fear, then joy Ran revel in the elder boy. Their night was come now; all Our company thronged […]...
21. My Orcha'd in Linden Lea ‘Ithin the woodlands, flow’ry gleaded, By the woak tree’s mossy moot, The sheenen grass-bleades, timber-sheaded, Now do quiver under voot; An’ birds do whissle over head, An’ water’s bubblen in its bed, An’ there vor me the apple tree Do lean down low in Linden Lea. When leaves that leately wer a-springen Now do feade […]...
22. Gazing at the Sacred Peak For all this, what is the mountain god like? An unending green of lands north and south: From ethereal beauty Creation distills There, yin and yang split dusk and dawn. Swelling clouds sweep by. Returning birds Ruin my eyes vanishing. One day soon, At the summit, the other mountains will be Small enough to hold, […]...
23. SYMBOLS PALM Sunday at the Vatican They celebrate with palms; With reverence bows each holy man, And chaunts the ancient psalms. Those very psalms are also sung With olive boughs in hand, While holly, mountain wilds among, In place of palms must stand: In fine, one seeks some twig that’s green, And takes a willow rod, […]...
24. Power is a familiar growth Power is a familiar growth Not foreign not to be Beside us like a bland Abyss In every company Escape it there is but a chance When consciousness and clay Lean forward for a final glance Disprove that and you may...
25. Vegetation O never harm the dreaming world, The world of green, the world of leaves, But let its million palms unfold The adoration of the trees. It is a love in darkness wrought Obedient to the unseen sun, Longer than memory, a thought Deeper than the graves of time. The turning spindles of the cells Weave […]...
26. No! No sun no moon! No morn no noon! No dawn no dusk no proper time of day No sky no earthly view No distance looking blue No road no street no “t’other side this way” No end to any Row No indications where the Crescents go No top to any steeple No recognitions of familiar […]...
27. Crazy Jane Grown Old Looks At The Dancers I found that ivory image there Dancing with her chosen youth, But when he wound her coal-black hair As though to strangle her, no scream Or bodily movement did I dare, Eyes under eyelids did so gleam; Love is like the lion’s tooth. When She, and though some said she played I said that she […]...
28. 154. Lines Inscribed under Fergusson's Portrait CURSE on ungrateful man, that can be pleased, And yet can starve the author of the pleasure. O thou, my elder brother in misfortune, By far my elder brother in the Muses, With tears I pity thy unhappy fate! Why is the Bard unpitied by the world, Yet has so keen a relish of its […]...
29. Snow flakes Snow flakes. I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly I did resign the prig, And ten of my once stately toes Are marshalled for a jig!...
30. The Convalescent . . . So I walked among the willows very quietly all night; There was no moon at all, at all; no timid star alight; There was no light at all, at all; I wint from tree to tree, And I called him as his mother called, but he nivver answered me. Oh I called […]...
31. Special Pleading Time, hurry my Love to me: Haste, haste! Lov’st not good company? Here’s but a heart-break sandy waste ‘Twixt Now and Then. Why, killing haste Were best, dear Time, for thee, for thee! Oh, would that I might divine Thy name beyond the zodiac sign Wherefrom our times-to-come descend. He called thee ‘Sometime’. Change it, […]...
32. Rosemary Beauty and Beauty’s son and rosemary – Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly – Born of the sea supposedly, At Christmas each, in company, Braids a garland of festivity. Not always rosemary – Since the flight to Egypt, blooming indifferently. With lancelike leaf, green but silver underneath, Its flowers – white originally – […]...
33. INFAMOUS POET I never did fit in – at six or sixty one – I stand out in a crowd, too young or old And gather pity like a shroud. “Is that real silk?” A teenager inquired. “As real as Oxfam ever is For one pound fifty.” The vast ballroom was growing misty And blurred with alcohol […]...
34. Beginning The moon drops one or two feathers into the fiels. The dark wheat listens. Be still. Now. There they are, the moon’s young, trying Their wings. Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone Wholly, into the air. I […]...
35. Haunted Evening was in the wood, louring with storm. A time of drought had sucked the weedy pool And baked the channels; birds had done with song. Thirst was a dream of fountains in the moon, Or willow-music blown across the water Leisurely sliding on by weir and mill. Uneasy was the man who wandered, brooding, […]...
36. Loneliness Now it is Loneliness who comes at night Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed. Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread, I watch her softly blowing out the light. Motionless sitting, neither left or right She turns, and weary, weary droops her head. She, too, is old; she, too, has […]...
37. A loss of something ever felt I A loss of something ever felt I The first that I could recollect Bereft I was of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect A Mourner walked among the children I notwithstanding went about As one bemoaning a Dominion Itself the only Prince cast out Elder, Today, a session wiser And fainter, […]...
38. He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because […]...
39. Lean Out of the Window Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air. My book was closed, I read no more, Watching the fire dance On the floor. I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom. Singing and singing A merry air, Lean out of […]...
40. The Waving Of The Corn Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly wheeled Thy plough to ring this solitary tree With clover, whose round plat, reserved a-field, In cool green radius twice my length may be Scanting the corn thy furrows else might yield, To pleasure August, bees, fair thoughts, and me, That here come oft together daily I, Stretched prone […]...