The Fly

Related poetry:

1. 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 […]...
2. Death XXVII Then Almitra spoke, saying, “We would ask now of Death.” And he said: You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed […]...
3. All That Love Asks All that I ask, ‘says Love, ‘is just to stand And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes; For in their depths lies largest Paradise. Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand Be granted me, then joy I thought complete Were still more sweet. ‘All that I ask, ‘ says Love, ‘all that I […]...
4. Dylan And is it not a gesture grand To drink oneself to death? Oh sure ’tis I can understand, Being of sober breath. And so I do not sing success, But dirge the damned who fall, And who contempt for life express Through alcohol. Of Stephen Foster and of Poe, Of Burns and Wilde I think; […]...
5. The Little Vagabond Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm: Besides I can tell where I am use’d well, Such usage in heaven will never do well. But if at the Church they would give us some Ale. And a pleasant fire, our souls to regale: We’d sing […]...
6. The Touch For months my hand was sealed off In a tin box. Nothing was there but the subway railings. Perhaps it is bruised, I thought, And that is why they have locked it up. You could tell time by this, I thought, Like a clock, by its five knuckles And the thin underground veins. It lay […]...
7. The Chimney-Sweeper (Experience) A little black thing among the snow: Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe! Where are thy father & mother? say? They are both gone up to the church to pray. Because I was happy upon the heath. And smil’d among the winters snow: They clothed me in the clothes of death. And taught me […]...
8. Drinking Alone I take my wine jug out among the flowers To drink alone, without friends. I raise my cup to entice the moon. That, and my shadow, makes us three. But the moon doesn’t drink, And my shadow silently follows. I will travel with moon and shadow, Happy to the end of spring. When I sing, […]...
9. Song from Aella O SING unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear with me; Dance no more at holyday, Like a running river be: My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree. Black his cryne as the winter night, White his rode as the summer snow, Red his face as the morning light, […]...
10. Milton: But in the Wine-presses the Human Grapes Sing not nor Dance But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance: They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming, In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires, In pits and dens and shades of death, in shapes of torment and woe: The plates and screws and racks and […]...
11. Two Quatrains I As eons of incalculable strife Are in the vision of one moment caught, So are the common, concrete things of life Divinely shadowed on the walls of Thought. II We shriek to live, but no man ever lives Till he has rid the ghost of human breath; We dream to die, but no man […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. Songs of Battle Old as the world no other things so old; Nay, older than the world, else, how had sprung Such lusty strength in them when earth was young? Stand valor and its passion hot and bold, Insatiate of battle. How, else, told Blind men, born blind, that red was fitting tongue Mute, eloquent, to show how […]...
14. Susie My daughter Susie, aged two, Apes me in every way, For as my household chores I do With brooms she loves to play. A scrubbing brush to her is dear; Ah! Though my soul it vex, My bunch of cuteness has, I fear, Kitchen complex. My dream was that she might go far, And play […]...
15. Goddess In The Wood, The In a flowered dell the Lady Venus stood, Amazed with sorrow. Down the morning one Far golden horn in the gold of trees and sun Rang out; and held; and died. . . . She thought the wood Grew quieter. Wing, and leaf, and pool of light Forgot to dance. Dumb lay the unfalling stream; […]...
16. 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 […]...
17. All Ye Joyful Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together! The wind’s in the tree-top, the wind’s in the heather; The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, And bright are the windows of night in her tower. Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together! Soft is the grass, and let foot be like […]...
18. Dear Colette Dear Colette, I want to write to you About being a woman For that is what you write to me. I want to tell you how your face Enduring after thirty, forty, fifty. . . Hangs above my desk Like my own muse. I want to tell you how your hands Reach out from your […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. A Forsaken Garden IN a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, At the sea-down’s edge between windward and lee, Walled round with rocks as an inland island, The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses The steep square slope of the blossomless bed Where the weeds that grew green […]...
21. Death Fugue Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown We drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night We drink it and drink it We dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes He writes when […]...
22. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
23. My Delight and Thy Delight My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night: My desire and thy desire Twining to a tongue of fire, Leaping live, and laughing higher: Thro’ the everlasting strife In the mystery of life. Love, from whom the world begun, Hath the secret of the sun. Love can […]...
24. THE WARNING Beware! The Israelite of old, who tore The lion in his path, when, poor and blind, He saw the blessed light of heaven no more, Shorn of his noble strength and forced to grind In prison, and at last led forth to be A pander to Philistine revelry, Upon the pillars of the temple laid […]...
25. Alone And Drinking Under The Moon Amongst the flowers I Am alone with my pot of wine Drinking by myself; then lifting My cup I asked the moon To drink with me, its reflection And mine in the wine cup, just The three of us; then I sigh For the moon cannot drink, And my shadow goes emptily along With me […]...
26. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
27. A Lyric to Mirth While the milder fates consent, Let’s enjoy our merriment : Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play ; Kiss our dollies night and day : Crowned with clusters of the vine, Let us sit, and quaff our wine. Call on Bacchus, chant his praise ; Shake the thyrse, and bite the bays : Rouse Anacreon […]...
28. Songs of Joy Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy; Sing as a happy bird will sing Beneath a rainbow’s lovely arch In the spring. Think not of death in thy young days; Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear? And fear him not when thou art old, And he is near. Strive not for gold, for […]...
29. The Ride The horse beneath me seemed To know what course to steer Through the horror of snow I dreamed, And so I had no fear, Nor was I chilled to death By the wind’s white shudders, thanks To the veils of his patient breath And the mist of sweat from his flanks. It seemed that all […]...
30. An Ode to the Queen All hail to the Empress of India, Great Britain’s Queen! Long may she live in health, happy and serene; Loved by her subjects at home and abroad; Blest may she be when lying down To sleep, and rising up, by the Eternal God; Happy may her visions be in sleep… And happy her thoughts in […]...
31. The Lunger Jack would laugh an’ joke all day; Never saw a lad so gay; Singin’ like a medder lark, Loaded to the Plimsoll mark With God’s sunshine was that boy; Had a strangle-holt on Joy. Held his head ‘way up in air, Left no callin’ cards on Care; Breezy, buoyant, brave and true; Sent his sunshine […]...
32. Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote Her Name One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey. “Vain man,” said she, “that dost in vain assay, A mortal thing so to immortalize; For I myself shall like […]...
33. The Chorus of Old Men in Aegus Ye gods that have a home beyond the world, Ye that have eyes for all man’s agony, Ye that have seen this woe that we have seen,- Look with a just regard, And with an even grace, Here on the shattered corpse of a shattered king, Here on a suffering world where men grow old […]...
34. Psalm 102 part 3 v.23-28 L. M. Man’s mortality, and Christ’s eternity. It is the Lord our Savior’s hand Weakens our strength amidst the race; Disease and death at his command Arrest us, and cut short our days. Spare us, O Lord, aloud we pray, Nor let our sun go down at noon; Thy years are one eternal day, […]...
35. Strong Beer “What do you think The bravest drink Under the sky?” “Strong beer,” said I. “There’s a place for everything, Everything, anything, There’s a place for everything Where it ought to be: For a chicken, the hen’s wing; For poison, the bee’s sting; For almond-blossom, Spring; A beerhouse for me.” “There’s a prize for every one […]...
36. THE DEATH OF THE FLY WITH eagerness he drinks the treach’rous potion, Nor stops to rest, by the first taste misled; Sweet is the draught, but soon all power of motion He finds has from his tender members fled; No longer has he strength to plume his wing, No longer strength to raise his head, poor thing! E’en in enjoyment’s […]...
37. 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? […]...
38. In Reference to Her Children I had eight birds hatched in one nest, Four cocks there were, and hens the rest. I nursed them up with pain and care, Nor cost, nor labour did I spare, Till at the last they felt their wing, Mounted the trees, and learned to sing; Chief of the brood then took his flight To […]...
39. Upon a Fit of Sickness Twice ten years old not fully told Since nature gave me breath, My race is run, my thread spun, Lo, here is fatal death. All men must die, and so must I; This cannot be revoked. For Adam’s sake this word God spake When he so high provoked. Yet live I shall, this life’s but […]...
40. Hymn 153 The distemper, folly, and madness of sin Sin, like a venomous disease, Infects our vital blood; The only balm is sovereign grace, And the physician, God. Our beauty and our strength are fled, And we draw near to death; But Christ the Lord recalls the dead With his almighty breath. Madness by nature reigns within, […]...