The Meditation Of The Old Fisherman

Related poetry:

1. Krinken Krinken was a little child, It was summer when he smiled. Oft the hoary sea and grim Stretched its white arms out to him, Calling, “Sun-child, come to me; Let me warm my heart with thee!” But the child heard not the sea, Calling, yearning evermore For the summer on the shore. Krinken on the […]...
2. Fisherman jim's kids Fisherman Jim lived on the hill With his bonnie wife an’ his little boys; ‘T wuz “Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will – Naught we reck of your cold and noise!” For happy and warm were he an’ his, And he dandled his kids upon his knee To the song of the sea. Fisherman […]...
3. The Drunken Fisherman Wallowing in this bloody sty, I cast for fish that pleased my eye (Truly Jehovah’s bow suspends No pots of gold to weight its ends); Only the blood-mouthed rainbow trout Rose to my bait. They flopped about My canvas creel until the moth Corrupted its unstable cloth. A calendar to tell the day; A handkerchief […]...
4. Poet As Fisherman I fish for words To say what I fish for, Half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight (yellow perch, crappies, blue-gills), Lighthearted reeled them in, Filed them on stringers on the shore. A nice mess, we called them, And ate with our fingers, laughing. Once, dreaming of fish in far-off waters, I […]...
5. In Connemara WITH eyes all untroubled she laughs as she passes, Bending beneath the creel with the seaweed brown, Till evening with pearl dew dims the shining grasses And night lit with dreamlight enfolds the sleepy town. Then she will wander, her heart all a laughter, Tracking the dream star that lights the purple gloom. She follows […]...
6. THE PEARL FISHERMAN This evening and part of the night I sank again into the dense sea Where we beings and things float. I descended for pearls to show to men Who fear even the risk of the border. This evening and part of the night I was amidst that silence, in that deepness Where the most infinite […]...
7. Meditation on a Bone A piece of bone, found at Trondhjem in 1901, with the following runic inscription (about A. D. 1050) cut on it: I loved her as a maiden; I will not trouble Erlend’s detestable wife; better she should be a widow. Words scored upon a bone, Scratched in despair or rage Nine hundred years have gone; […]...
8. Ode to Meditation SWEET CHILD OF REASON! maid serene; With folded arms, and pensive mien, Who wand’ring near yon thorny wild, So oft, my length’ning hours beguil’d; Thou, who within thy peaceful call, Canst laugh at LIFE’S tumultuous care, While calm repose delights to dwell On beds of fragrant roses there; Where meek-ey’d PATIENCE waits to greet The […]...
9. A MEDITATION FOR HIS MISTRESS You are a Tulip seen to-day, But, Dearest, of so short a stay, That where you grew, scarce man can say. You are a lovely July-flower; Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower, Will force you hence, and in an hour. You are a sparkling Rose i’th’ bud, Yet lost, ere that chaste flesh and […]...
10. On a Theme by Frost Amherst never had a witch O Coos or of Grafton But once upon a time There were three old women. One wore a small beard And carried a big umbrella. One stood in the middle Of the road hailing cars. One drove an old cart All over the town collecting junk. They were not weird […]...
11. THE FISHERMAN THE waters rush’d, the waters rose, A fisherman sat by, While on his line in calm repose He cast his patient eye. And as he sat, and hearken’d there, The flood was cleft in twain, And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair Sprang from the troubled main. She sang to him, and spake the while: “Why […]...
12. Anthem The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what Has passed away Or what is yet to be. Ah the wars they will Be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again Bought and sold And bought again The dove is never free. […]...
13. A Midnight Meditation HOW often have I said, “We may not grieve for the immortal dead.” And now, poor blenchèd heart, Thy ruddy hues all tremulous depart. Why be with fate at strife Because one passes on from death to life, Who may no more delay Rapt from our strange and pitiful dream away By one with ancient […]...
14. The Fisherman Although I can see him still. The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies, It’s long since I began To call up to the eyes This wise and simple man. All day I’d looked in the face What I had hoped […]...
15. Last Week Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run, But he should have gone there last week. He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun, But of turkey of duck saw never a one, For he should have been there last week, They said, There were flocks of ’em there last week. He wended his way […]...
16. A Meditation In Time Of War For one throb of the artery, While on that old grey stone I Sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate phantasy....
17. The Wind O, wind! what saw you in the South, In lilied meadows fair and far? I saw a lover kiss his lass New-won beneath the evening star. O, wind! what saw you in the West Of passing sweet that wooed your stay? I saw a mother kneeling by The cradle where her first-born lay. O, wind! […]...
18. Clouds and Waves Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me- “We play from the time we wake till the day ends. We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon.” I ask, “But how am I to get up to you?” They answer, “Come to the edge of the […]...
19. Skipper Ireson's Ride Of all the rides since the birth of time, Told in story or sung in rhyme, – On Apuleius’ Golden Ass, Or one-eyed Calendar’s horse of brass, Witch astride of a human back, Islam’s prophet on Al-Borak, – The strangest ride that ever was sped Was Ireson’s, out from Marblehead! Old Floyd Ireson, for his […]...
20. The Maiden From Afar Within a vale, each infant year, When earliest larks first carol free, To humble shepherds cloth appear A wondrous maiden, fair to see. Not born within that lowly place From whence she wandered, none could tell; Her parting footsteps left no trace, When once the maiden sighed farewell. And blessed was her presence there Each […]...
21. Lichtenberg Smells are surer than sounds or sights To make your heart-strings crack They start those awful voices o’ nights That whisper, ” Old man, come back! “ That must be why the big things pass And the little things remain, Like the smell of the wattle by Lichtenberg, Riding in, in the rain. There was […]...
22. Meditation On Saviors I When I considered it too closely, when I wore it like an element and smelt it like water, Life is become less lovely, the net nearer than the skin, a little troublesome, a little terrible. I pledged myself awhile ago not to seek refuge, neither in death nor in a walled garden, In lies […]...
23. Sea Song I will think no more of the sea! Of the big green waves And the hollowed Shore, Of the brown rock caves No more, no more Of the swell and the weed And the bubbling foam. Memory dwells in my far away home, She has nothing To do with me. She is old and bent […]...
24. Meditation under Stars What links are ours with orbs that are So resolutely far: The solitary asks, and they Give radiance as from a shield: Still at the death of day, The seen, the unrevealed. Implacable they shine To us who would of Life obtain An answer for the life we strain To nourish with one sign. Nor […]...
25. Dream Song 59: Henry's Meditation in the Kremlin Down on the cathedrals, as from the Giralda In a land no crueller, and over the walls To domes & river look From Great John’s belfry, Ivan-Veliky, Whose thirty-one are still To hail who storms no father’s throne. Bell, book & cradle rule, in silence. Hour by hour From time to time with holy oil […]...
26. Schroeder the Fisherman I sat on the bank above Bernadotte And dropped crumbs in the water, Just to see the minnows bump each other, Until the strongest got the prize. Or I went to my little pasture, Where the peaceful swine were asleep in the wallow, Or nosing each other lovingly, And emptied a basket of yellow corn, […]...
27. She, To Him WHEN you shall see me lined by tool of Time, My lauded beauties carried off from me, My eyes no longer stars as in their prime, My name forgot of Maiden Fair and Free; When in your being heart concedes to mind, And judgment, though you scarce its process know, Recalls the excellencies I once […]...
28. John Rouat the Fisherman Margaret Simpson was the daughter of humble parents in the county of Ayr, With a comely figure, and face of beauty rare, And just in the full bloom of her womanhood, Was united to John Rouat, a fisherman good. John’s fortune consisted of his coble, three oars, and his fishing-gear, Besides his two stout boys, […]...
29. Meditation on the A30 A man on his own in a car Is revenging himself on his wife; He open the throttle and bubbles with dottle And puffs at his pitiful life She’s losing her looks very fast, She loses her temper all day; That lorry won’t let me get past, This Mini is blocking my way. “Why can’t […]...
30. A House upon the Height A House upon the Height That Wagon never reached No Dead, were ever carried down No Peddler’s Cart approached Whose Chimney never smoked Whose Windows Night and Morn Caught Sunrise first and Sunset last Then held an Empty Pane Whose fate Conjecture knew No other neighbor did And what it was we never lisped Because […]...
31. His Meditation Upon Death BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend, Blest with the meditation of my end; Though they be few in number, I’m content; If otherwise, I stand indifferent, Nor makes it matter, Nestor’s years to tell, If man lives long, and if he live not well. A multitude of days still heaped on […]...
32. A little Road not made of Man A little Road not made of Man Enabled of the Eye Accessible to Thill of Bee Or Cart of Butterfly If Town it have beyond itself ‘Tis that I cannot say I only know no Curricle that rumble there Bear Me...
33. Later life Something this foggy day, a something which Is neither of this fog nor of today, Has set me dreaming of the winds that play Past certain cliffs, along one certain beach, And turn the topmost edge of waves to spray: Ah pleasant pebbly strand so far away, So out of reach while quite within my […]...
34. The Fiddler Of Dooney When I play on my fiddle in Dooney. Folk dance like a wave of the sea; My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, My brother in Mocharabuiee. I passed my brother and cousin: They read in their books of prayer; I read in my book of songs I bought at the Sligo fair. When we come […]...
35. Tides O patient shore, thou canst not go to meet Thy love, the restless sea, how comfortest Thou all thy loneliness? Art thou at rest, When, loosing his strong arms from round thy feet, He turns away? Know’st thou, however sweet That other shore may be, that to thy breast He must return? And when in […]...
36. The Lads in Their Hundreds The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair, There’s men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold, The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there, And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old. There’s chaps from […]...
37. In Romney Marsh As I went down to Dymchurch Wall, I heard the South sing o’er the land I saw the yellow sunlight fall On knolls where Norman churches stand. And ringing shrilly, taut and lithe, Within the wind a core of sound, The wire from Romney town to Hythe Along its airy journey wound. A veil of […]...
38. To The Spring Welcome, gentle Stripling, Nature’s darling thou! With thy basket full of blossoms, A happy welcome now! Aha! and thou returnest, Heartily we greet thee The loving and the fair one, Merrily we meet thee! Think’st thou of my maiden In thy heart of glee? I love her yet, the maiden And the maiden yet loves […]...
39. The Ballad Of Moll Magee Come round me, little childer; There, don’t fling stones at me Because I mutter as I go; But pity Moll Magee. My man was a poor fisher With shore lines in the say; My work was saltin’ herrings The whole of the long day. And sometimes from the Saltin’ shed I scarce could drag my […]...
40. The Road to Gundagai The mountain road goes up and down From Gundagai to Tumut Town And, branching off, there runs a track Across the foothills grim and black, Across the plains and ranges grey To Sydney city far away. It came by chance one day that I From Tumut rode to Gundagai, And reached about the evening tide […]...