Abbey Assaroe

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1. Malvern abbey the day was as grey as the abbey The light that filtered through the glass Had no disturbing shine about it No one inside was grasping to collect it The organ had its notes tucked in a corner Its sound blending the greyness into calm I was a stranger there but felt collated A dovecote […]...
2. In Westminster Abbey Let me take this other glove off As the vox humana swells, And the beauteous fields of Eden Bask beneath the Abbey bells. Here, where England’s statesmen lie, Listen to a lady’s cry. Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans, Spare their women for Thy Sake, And if that is not too easy We will pardon […]...
3. Netley Abbey Fallen pile! I ask not what has been thy fate; But when the winds, slow wafted from the main, Through each rent arch, like spirits that complain, Come hollow to my ear, I meditate On this world’s passing pageant, and the lot Of those who once majestic in their prime Stood smiling at decay, till […]...
4. The House on the Hill They are all gone away, The House is shut and still, There is nothing more to say. Through broken walls and gray The winds blow bleak and shrill: They are all gone away. Nor is there one to-day To speak them good or ill: There is nothing more to say. Why is it then we […]...
5. At The Abbey Theatre (Imitated from Ronsard) Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into our case. When we are high and airy hundreds say That if we hold that flight they’ll leave the place, While those same hundreds mock another day Because we have made our art of common things, So bitterly, you’d dream they longed to look All their lives […]...
6. Sheep From where I stand the sheep stand still As stones against the stony hill. The stones are gray And so are they. And both are weatherworn and round, Leading the eye back to the ground. Two mingled flocks – The sheep, the rocks. And still no sheep stirs from its place Or lifts its Babylonian […]...
7. The Fairies Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl’s feather! Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the […]...
8. Temporary Poem Of My Time Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west, Latin writing, from west to east. Languages are like cats: You must not stroke their hair the wrong way. The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert, The trees bend in the wind, And stones fly from all four winds, Into […]...
9. The Burial of the Reverend Gilfillan On the Gilfillan burial day, In the Hill o’ Balgay, It was a most solemn sight to see, Not fewer than thirty thousand people assembled in Dundee, All watching the funeral procession of Gilfillan that day, That death had suddenly taken away, And was going to be buried in the Hill o’ Balgay. There were […]...
10. Ghost There is a jaggle of masonry here, on a small hill Above the gray-mouthed Pacific, cottages and a thick-walled tower, all made of rough sea rock And Portland cement. I imagine, fifty years from now, A mist-gray figure moping about this place in mad moonlight, examining the mortar-joints, pawing the Parasite ivy: “Does the place […]...
11. Baltic Fog Notes (Bergen)SEVEN days all fog, all mist, and the turbines pounding through high seas. I was a plaything, a rat’s neck in the teeth of a scuffling mastiff. Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moon. Then an afternoon in fjords, low-lying lands scrawled in granite languages on a gray sky, A night harbor, blue dusk […]...
12. Break, Break, Break Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the […]...
13. Ireland With Emily Bells are booming down the bohreens, White the mist along the grass, Now the Julias, Maeves and Maureens Move between the fields to Mass. Twisted trees of small green apple Guard the decent whitewashed chapel, Gilded gates and doorway grained, Pointed windows richly stained With many-coloured Munich glass. See the black-shawled congregations On the broidered […]...
14. Bivouac on a Mountain Side I SEE before me now, a traveling army halting; Below, a fertile valley spread, with barns, and the orchards of summer; Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt in places, rising high; Broken, with rocks, with clinging cedars, with tall shapes, dingily seen; The numerous camp-fires scatter’d near and far, some away up on […]...
15. Reflections of caernarvon i I shall die yearning A hand Reaching out to A face that isn’t there A face Seeking a hand A stone Leaving its mountain- Wall in a wind Anxious to be a bird A bird Crying to be a wall Ii North wales The goat pisses The hawk hangs The mountain leans forward out […]...
16. A Winter Daybreak Above Vence The night’s drifts Pile up below me and behind my back, Slide down the hill, rise again, and build Eerie little dunes on the roof of the house. In the valley below me, Miles between me and the town of St.-Jeannet, The road lamps glow. They are so cold, they might as well be dark. […]...
17. Now At Liberty Little white love, your way you’ve taken; Now I am left alone, alone. Little white love, my heart’s forsaken. (Whom shall I get by telephone?) Well do I know there’s no returning; Once you go out, it’s done, it’s done. All of my days are gray with yearning. (Nevertheless, a girl needs fun.) Little white […]...
18. A Farewell Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, A rivulet then a river: Nowhere by thee my steps shall be For ever and for ever. But here will sigh thine alder tree […]...
19. Cassius Hueffer They have chiseled on my stone the words: ‘His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him That nature might stand up and say to all the world, This was a man.’ Those who knew me smile As they read this empty rhetoric. My epitaph should have been: ‘Life was not gentle to […]...
20. Hymn 39 God’s tender care of his church. Isa. 49:13ff. Now shall my inward joys arise, And burst into a song; Almighty love inspires my heart, And pleasure tunes my tongue. God on his thirsty Zion hill Some mercy drops has thrown, And solemn oaths have bound his love To shower salvation down. Why do we then […]...
21. Adieu to Belshanny Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I’ll think of you, as sure as night and morn. The kindly spot, the friendly town, where every one is known, And not a face in all the place but partly seems my own; There’s not a house or window, there’s not […]...
22. On Shakespear What needs my Shakespear for his honour’d Bones, The labour of an age in piled Stones, Or that his hallow’d reliques should be hid Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, What need’st thou such weak witnes of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thy self […]...
23. The Farewell Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage Gone, gone, sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings Where the noisome insect stings Where the fever demon strews Poison with the falling dews Where the sickly sunbeams glare Through the hot and misty air; Gone, […]...
24. One need not be a Chamber to be Haunted One need not be a Chamber to be Haunted One need not be a House The Brain has Corridors surpassing Material Place Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting External Ghost Than its interior Confronting That Cooler Host. Far safer, through an Abbey gallop, The Stones a’chase Than Unarmed, one’s a’self encounter In lonesome Place Ourself […]...
25. Beautiful Balmerino Beautiful Balmermo on the bonnie banks of Tay, It’s a very bonnie spot in the months of June or May; The scenery there is charming and fascinating to see, Especially the surroundings of the old Abbey, Which is situated in the midst of trees on a rugged hill, Which visitors can view at their own […]...
26. Over The Land Is April OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear me, Hear my sonnets ring? Over the high, brown mountain, Love, do you hear me sing? By highway, love, and byway The snows succeed the rose. Over the high, brown […]...
27. In this World The hill pasture, an open place among the trees, Tilts into the valley. The clovers and tall grasses Are in bloom. Along the foot of the hill Dark floodwater moves down the river. The sun sets. Ahead of nightfall the birds sing. I have climbed up to water the horses And now sit and rest, […]...
28. Richard Bone When I first came to Spoon River I did not know whether what they told me Was true or false. They would bring me an epitaph And stand around the shop while I worked And say “He was so kind,” “He was wonderful,” “She was the sweetest woman,” “He was a consistent Christian.” And I […]...
29. Broken Tabernacles HAVE I broken the smaller tabernacles, O Lord? And in the destruction of these set up the greater and massive, the everlasting tabernacles? I know nothing today, what I have done and why, O Lord, only I have broken and broken tabernacles. They were beautiful in a way, these tabernacles torn down by strong hands […]...
30. The Lost Pyx: A Mediaeval Legend Some say the spot is banned; that the pillar Cross-and-Hand Attests to a deed of hell; But of else than of bale is the mystic tale That ancient Vale-folk tell. Ere Cernel’s Abbey ceased hereabout there dwelt a priest, (In later life sub-prior Of the brotherhood there, whose bones are now bare In the field […]...
31. Stone Breaking March wind rough Clashed the trees, Flung the snow; Breaking stones, In the cold, Germans slow Toiled and toiled; Arrowy sun Glanced and sprang, One right blithe German sang: Songs of home, Fatherland: Syenite hard, Weary lot, Callous hand, All forgot: Hammers pound, Ringing round; Rise the heaps, To his voice, Bounds and leaps Toise […]...
32. The Coliseum Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary Of lofty contemplation left to Time By buried centuries of pomp and power! At length – at length – after so many days Of weary pilgrimage and burning thirst, (Thirst for the springs of lore that in thee lie,) I kneel, an altered and an humble man, Amid […]...
33. In a Disused Graveyard The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: “The ones who living come today To read the stones and go away Tomorrow dead will come to stay.” So sure of death the […]...
34. 382. Song-I'll meet thee on the Lea Rig WHEN o’er the hill the eastern star Tells bughtin time is near, my jo, And owsen frae the furrow’d field Return sae dowf and weary O; Down by the burn, where birken buds Wi’ dew are hangin clear, my jo, I’ll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O. At midnight hour, in […]...
35. THE SAME [Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill In the forest of Ilmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed the last act of his Iphigenia.] HUSH’D on the hill Is the breeze; Scarce by the zephyr The trees Softly are press’d; The woodbird’s asleep on the bough. Wait, then, and thou […]...
36. The Song And The Sigh The creek went down with a broken song, ‘Neath the sheoaks high; The waters carried the song along, And the oaks a sigh. The song and the sigh went winding by, Went winding down; Circling the foot of the mountain high, And the hillside brown. They were hushed in the swamp of the Dead Man’s […]...
37. Dogheads AMONG the grassroots In the moonlight, who comes circling, red tongues and high noses? Is one of ’em Buck and one of ’em White Fang? In the moonlight, who are they, cross-legged, telling their stories over and over? Is one of ’em Martin Eden and one of ’em Larsen the Wolf? Let an epitaph read: […]...
38. Walls Without consideration, without pity, without shame They have built great and high walls around me. And now I sit here and despair. I think of nothing else: this fate gnaws at my mind; For I had many things to do outside. Ah why did I not pay attention when they were building the walls. But […]...
39. Three Songs To The One Burden I The Roaring Tinker if you like, But Mannion is my name, And I beat up the common sort And think it is no shame. The common breeds the common, A lout begets a lout, So when I take on half a score I knock their heads about. From mountain to mountain ride the fierce […]...
40. Montjuich “Hill of Jews,” says one, Named for a cemetery Long gone.”Hill of Jove,” Says another, and maybe Jove stalked here Once or rests now Where so many lie Who felt God swell The earth and burn Along the edges Of their breath. Almost seventy years Since a troop of cavalry Jingled up the silent road, […]...