Huazi Ridge

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1. Jinzhu Ridge Wingceltis goldenrain shine empty bend Fresh and green ripple ripples ripples Secret enter Shang hill road Woodcutter not able know Wingceltis and goldenrain shine at the empty bend, Fresh and green, rippling ever onward. A secret road leads up to Shangshan hill, Even the woodcutter does not know....
2. Blue Ridge BORN a million years ago you stay here a million years… Watching the women come and live and be laid away… You and they thin-gray thin-dusk lovely. So it goes: either the early morning lights are lovely or the early morning star. I am glad I have seen racehorses, women, mountains....
3. Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been Two full Autumns for the Squirrel Bounteous prepared Nature, Had’st thou not a Berry For thy wandering Bird?...
4. Away, Melancholy Away, melancholy, Away with it, let it go. Are not the trees green, The earth as green? Does not the wind blow, Fire leap and the rivers flow? Away melancholy. The ant is busy He carrieth his meat, All things hurry To be eaten or eat. Away, melancholy. Man, too, hurries, Eats, couples, buries, He […]...
5. The Skies can't keep their secret! The Skies can’t keep their secret! They tell it to the Hills The Hills just tell the Orchards And they the Daffodils! A Bird by chance that goes that way Soft overhears the whole If I should bribe the little Bird Who knows but she would tell? I think I won’t however It’s finer not […]...
6. Colours in lamplight Colours in lamplight are previews, Scarcely eschewed as wave-length turbulence Tuned to closeness and friendship. Colours in firelight are skin-warmed Glowings, harbouring contentment, Revealing intuitive insight. Colours in moonlight are barely shown Shy smiles recalled with eidetic Intensity from reservoirs of sight. Colours in candlelight are filigree Reflections, decorative shimmers Of sympathetic enchantment. But in […]...
7. My Mother Would Be a Falconress My mother would be a falconress, And I, her gay falcon treading her wrist, Would fly to bring back From the blue of the sky to her, bleeding, a prize, Where I dream in my little hood with many bells Jangling when I’d turn my head. My mother would be a falconress, And she sends […]...
8. Premonition At Twilight The magpie in the Joshua tree Has come to rest. Darkness collects, And what I cannot hear or see, Broken limbs, the curious bird, Become in darkness darkness too. I had been going when I heard The sound of something called the night; I had been going but I stopped To see the bird restrain […]...
9. South Country After the whey-faced anonymity Of river-gums and scribbly-gums and bush, After the rubbing and the hit of brush, You come to the South Country As if the argument of trees were done, The doubts and quarrelling, the plots and pains, All ended by these clear and gliding planes Like an abrupt solution. And over the […]...
10. The Floods The rain it rains without a stay In the hills above us, in the hills; And presently the floods break way Whose strength is in the hills. The trees they suck from every cloud, The valley brooks they roar aloud Bank-high for the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills! The first wood down is sere […]...
11. The Town Between the Hills The further the little girl leaped and ran, The further she longed to be; The white, white fields of jonquil flowers Danced up as high as her knee And flashed and sparkled before her eyes Until she could hardly see. So into the wood went she. It was quiet in the wood, It was solemn […]...
12. The Scribe What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass, The speck of the stone Which the wayfaring ant Stirs and hastes on! Though I should sit By some tarn in thy hills, Using its ink As the spirit wills To write of Earth’s wonders, Its […]...
13. Before the Squall The wind is rising on the sea, The windy white foam-dancers leap; And the sea moans uneasily, And turns to sleep, and cannot sleep. Ridge after rocky ridge uplifts, Wild hands, and hammers at the land, Scatters in liquid dust, and drifts To death among the dusty sand. On the horizon’s nearing line, Where the […]...
14. Each small gleam was a voice Each small gleam was a voice, A lantern voice In little songs of carmine, violet, green, gold. A chorus of colours came over the water; The wondrous leaf-shadow no longer wavered, No pines crooned on the hills, The blue night was elsewhere a silence, When the chorus of colours came over the water, Little songs […]...
15. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
16. Old Boy Scout A bonny bird I found today Mired in a melt of tar; Its silky breast was silver-grey, Its wings were cinnabar. So still it lay right in the way Of every passing car. Yet as I gently sought to pry It loose, it glared at me; You would have thought its foe was I, It […]...
17. I would to heaven that I were so much clay I would to heaven that I were so much clay, As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling – Because at least the past were passed away – And for the future – (but I write this reeling, Having got drunk exceedingly today, So that I seem to stand upon the ceiling) I say – […]...
18. Rivulose You think the ridge hills flowing, breaking With ups and downs will, though, Building constancy into the black foreground For each sunset, hold on to you, if dreams Wander, give reality recurrence enough to keep An image clear, but then you realize, time Going on, that time’s residual like the last Ice age’s cool still […]...
19. Hence, All You Vain Delights from the Nice Valour Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly: There’s nought in this life sweet, If man were wise to see’t, But only melancholy, O sweetest melancholy! Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, A sigh that piercing mortifies, A look that’s fastened to the ground, A tongue chained […]...
20. Melancholy HENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly! There ‘s naught in this life sweet, If men were wise to see’t, But only melancholy O sweetest melancholy! Welcome, folded arms and fixed eyes, A sight that piercing mortifies, A look that ‘s fasten’d to the ground, A […]...
21. I've dropped my Brain My Soul is numb I’ve dropped my Brain My Soul is numb The Veins that used to run Stop palsied ’tis Paralysis Done perfecter on stone Vitality is Carved and cool. My nerve in Marble lies A Breathing Woman Yesterday Endowed with Paradise. Not dumb I had a sort that moved A Sense that smote and stirred Instincts for […]...
22. A Martian Sends A Postcard Home Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings And some are treasured for their markings They cause the eyes to melt Or the body to shriek without pain. I have never seen one fly, but Sometimes they perch on the hand. Mist is when the sky is tired of flight And rests its soft machine on […]...
23. My Faith is larger than the Hills My Faith is larger than the Hills So when the Hills decay My Faith must take the Purple Wheel To show the Sun the way ‘Tis first He steps upon the Vane And then upon the Hill And then abroad the World He go To do His Golden Will And if His Yellow feet should […]...
24. 467. Inscription to Miss Graham of Fintry HERE, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives, In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined, Accept the gift; though humble he who gives, Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. So may no ruffian-feeling in my breast, Discordant, jar thy bosom-chords among; But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, Or Love, ecstatic, wake his […]...
25. Inspiration How often have I started out With no thought in my noodle, And wandered here and there about, Where fancy bade me toddle; Till feeling faunlike in my glee I’ve voiced some gay distiches, Returning joyfully to tea, A poem in my britches. A-squatting on a thymy slope With vast of sky about me, I’ve […]...
26. All the letters I can write All the letters I can write Are not fair as this Syllables of Velvet Sentences of Plush, Depths of Ruby, undrained, Hid, Lip, for Thee Play it were a Humming Bird And just sipped me...
27. Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur “How shall I be a poet? How shall I write in rhyme? You told me once the very wish Partook of the sublime: Then tell me how. Don’t put me off With your ‘another time’.” The old man smiled to see him, To hear his sudden sally; He liked the lad to speak his mind […]...
28. Has Sorrow Thy Young Days Shaded Has sorrow thy young days shaded, As clouds o’er the morning fleet? Too fast have those young days faded That, even in sorrow, were sweet? Does Time with his cold wing wither Each feeling that once was dear? Then, child of misfortune, come hither, I’ll weep with thee, tear for tear. Has love to that […]...
29. The Cuckoo The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight, With narrow pointed wings Whews o’er our heads-soon out of sight And as she flies she sings: And darting down the hedgerow side She scares the little bird Who leaves the nest it cannot hide While plaintive notes are heard. I’ve watched it on an old oak tree […]...
30. Poet's Path My garden hath a slender path With ivy overgrown, A secret place where once would pace A pot all alone; I see him now with fretted brow, Plunged deep in thought; And sometimes he would write maybe, And sometimes he would not. A verse a day he used to say Keeps worry from the door; […]...
31. Allegiances It is time for all the heroes to go home If they have any, time for all of us common ones To locate ourselves by the real things We live by. Far to the north, or indeed in any direction, Strange mountains and creatures have always lurked- Elves, goblins, trolls, and spiders:-we Encounter them in […]...
32. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
33. Ode To Pornography If you could write down the words Moving through a man’s mind as He masturbates you’d have a quick Bonus bonk read, I used to think. But words were never adequate Or the point in the bar where the girl Is a boy the boy is a girl the two girls Exchange underpants the one […]...
34. What Survives Who says that all must vanish? Who knows, perhaps the flight Of the bird you wound remains, And perhaps flowers survive Caresses in us, in their ground. It isn’t the gesture that lasts, But it dresses you again in gold Armor from breast to knees And the battle was so pure An Angel wears it […]...
35. The Day is Done The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of […]...
36. Divinely Superfluous Beauty The storm-dances of gulls, the barking game of seals, Over and under the ocean… Divinely superfluous beauty Rules the games, presides over destinies, makes trees grow And hills tower, waves fall. The incredible beauty of joy Stars with fire the joining of lips, O let our loves too Be joined, there is not a maiden […]...
37. I Sit and Think I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seen, Of meadow-flowers and butterflies In summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer In autumns that there were, With morning mist and silver sun And wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will […]...
38. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
39. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
40. Girl's Lament In the years when we were All children, this inclining To be alone so much was gentle; Others’ time passed fighting, And one had one’s faction, One’s near, one’s far-off place, A path, an animal, a picture. And I still imagined, that life Would always keep providing For one to dwell on things within, Am […]...