Pastoral

Related poetry:

1. Pastoral The Dove walks with sticky feet Upon the green crowns of the almond tree, Its feathers smeared over with warmth Like honey That dips lazily down into the shadow… Anyone standing in that orchard. So filled with peace and sleep, Would hardly have noticed the hill Nearby With its three strange wooden arms Lifted above […]...
2. In Church I love the church: its labara, Its silver vessels, its candleholders, The lights, the ikons, the pulpit. Whenever I go there, into a church of the Greeks, With its aroma of incense, Its liturgical chanting and harmony, The majestic presence of the priests, Dazzling in their ornate vestments, The solemn rhythm of their gestures- My […]...
3. Loch Leven Beautiful Loch Leven, near by Kinross For a good day’s fishing the angler is seldom at a loss, For the Loch it abounds with pike and trout, Which can be had for the catching without any doubt; And the scenery around it is most beautiful to be seen, Especially the Castle, wherein was imprisoned Scotland’s […]...
4. A Pastoral Just as the sun was setting Back of the Western hills Grandfather stood by the window Eating the last of his pills. And Grandmother, by the cupboard, Knitting, heard him say: “I ought to have went to the village To fetch some more pills today.” Then Grandmother snuffled a teardrop And said. “It is jest […]...
5. Pastoral If it were only still!- With far away the shrill Crying of a cock; Or the shaken bell From a cow’s throat Moving through the bushes; Or the soft shock Of wizened apples falling From an old tree In a forgotten orchard Upon the hilly rock! Oh, grey hill, Where the grazing herd Licks the […]...
6. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
7. Pastoral Stanzas WHEN AURORA’S soft blushes o’erspread the blue hill, And the mist dies away at the glances of morn; When the birds join the music that floats on the rill, And the beauties of spring the young woodlands adorn. To breathe the pure air and enliven my soul, I bound from my cottage exulting and gay; […]...
8. Spring Pastoral Liza, go steep your long white hands In the cool waters of that spring Which bubbles up through shiny sands The colour of a wild-dove’s wing. Dabble your hands, and steep them well Until those nails are pearly white Now rosier than a laurel bell; Then come to me at candlelight. Lay your cold hands […]...
9. A Pastoral Dialogue Dorinda. SAbæan Perfumes fragrant Roses bring, With all the Flowers that Paint the gaudy Spring: Scatter them all in young Alexis’s way, With all that’s sweet and (like himself) that’s Gay. Alexis. Immortal Laurels and as lasting Praise, Crown the divine Dorinda’s matchless Laies: May all Hearts stoop, where mine would gladly yield, Had not […]...
10. A Pastoral Dialogue Between Two Shepherdesses [Silvia] Pretty Nymph! within this Shade, Whilst the Flocks to rest are laid, Whilst the World dissolves in Heat, Take this cool, and flow’ry Seat: And with pleasing Talk awhile Let us two the Time beguile; Tho’ thou here no Shepherd see, To encline his humble Knee, Or with melancholy Lays Sing thy dangerous Beauty’s […]...
11. 328. Poem on Pastoral Poetry HAIL, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv’d! In chase o’ thee, what crowds hae swerv’d Frae common sense, or sunk enerv’d ‘Mang heaps o’ clavers: And och! o’er aft thy joes hae starv’d, ‘Mid a’ thy favours! Say, Lassie, why, thy train amang, While loud the trump’s heroic clang, And sock or buskin skelp alang To death […]...
12. A PASTORAL SUNG TO THE KING MONTANO, SILVIO, AND MIRTILLO, SHEPHERDS MON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we. MON. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree: The feast of shepherds fail. SIL. None crowns the cup Of wassail now, or sets the quintel up: And he, who used to lead the country-round, Youthful […]...
13. The New Faces If you, that have grown old, were the first dead, Neither catalpa tree nor scented lime Should hear my living feet, nor would I tread Where we wrought that shall break the teeth of Time. Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms; night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove […]...
14. A PASTORAL UPON THE BIRTH OF PRINCE CHARLES:PRESENTED TO THE KING, AND SET BY MR NIC. LANIERE A PASTORAL UPON THE BIRTH OF PRINCE CHARLES: PRESENTED TO THE KING, AND SET BY MR NIC. LANIERE THE SPEAKERS: MIRTILLO, AMINTAS, AND AMARILLIS AMIN. Good day, Mirtillo. MIRT. And to you no less; And all fair signs lead on our shepherdess. AMAR. With all white luck to you. MIRT. But say, What news Stirs […]...
15. A Pastoral Dialogue (Melibæus, Alcippe, Asteria, Licida, Alcimedon, and Amira. ) Melibæus. WElcome fair Nymphs, most welcome to this shade, Distemp’ring Heats do now the Plains invade: But you may sit, from Sun securely here, If you an old mans company not fear. Alcippe. Most Reverend Swaine, far from us ever be The imputation of such Vanity. From Hill to Holt w’ave thee unweary’d sought, And […]...
16. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
17. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
18. My Cross I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it; Although I hoped that late or soon Someone would praise a bit Its purity and grace forlone, Its beauty tulip-cool… But as my poem died still-born, I felt a fool. I wrote a verse of vulgar trend Spiced with an oath or two; […]...
19. Milton I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold How the voluminous billows roll and run, Upheaving and subsiding, while the sun Shines through their sheeted emerald far unrolled, And the ninth wave, slow gathering fold by fold All its loose-flowing garments into one, Plunges upon the shore, and floods the dun Pale reach of sands, and […]...
20. When WHEN mine hour is come Let no teardrop fall And no darkness hover Round me where I lie. Let the vastness call One who was its lover, Let me breathe the sky. Where the lordly light Walks along the world, And its silent tread Leaves the grasses bright, Leaves the flowers uncurled, Let me to […]...
21. But Wise Men Perceive Approaching Things Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now, but wise men perceive approaching things. Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VIII, 7. Men know what is happening now. The gods know the things of the future, The full and sole possessors of all lights. Of the future things, wise men perceive Approaching things. […]...
22. Clouds Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow, Now tread the far South, or lift rounds of snow Up to the white moon’s hidden loveliness. Some pause in their grave wandering comradeless, And turn with profound gesture vague and slow, As who would pray good for the […]...
23. The Cottage Here in turn succeed and rule Carter, smith, and village fool, Then again the place is known As tavern, shop, and Sunday-school; Now somehow it’s come to me To light the fire and hold the key, Here in Heaven to reign alone. All the walls are white with lime, Big blue periwinkles climb And kiss […]...
24. TO MEADOWS Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill’d with flowers; And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours. You have beheld how they With wicker arks did come, To kiss and bear away The richer cowslips home. You’ve heard them sweetly sing, And seen them in a round; Each […]...
25. Hurrahing In Harvest Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks arise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies? I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes, Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour; And, éyes, heárt, […]...
26. 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 […]...
27. 127. Stanzas on Naething TO you, sir, this summons I’ve sent, Pray, whip till the pownie is freathing; But if you demand what I want, I honestly answer you-naething. Ne’er scorn a poor Poet like me, For idly just living and breathing, While people of every degree Are busy employed about-naething. Poor Centum-per-centum may fast, And grumble his hurdies […]...
28. In an Old Town Garden Shut from the clamor of the street By an old wall with lichen grown, It holds apart from jar and fret A peace and beauty all its own. The freshness of the springtime rains And dews of morning linger here; It holds the glow of summer noons And ripest twilights of the year. Above its […]...
29. Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
30. 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 […]...
31. 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 […]...
32. Mama never forgets her birds Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree She looks down just as often And just as tenderly As when her little mortal nest With cunning care she wove If either of her “sparrows fall,” She “notices,” above....
33. She's happy, with a new Content She’s happy, with a new Content That feels to her like Sacrament She’s busy with an altered Care As just apprenticed to the Air She’s tearful if she weep at all For blissful Causes Most of all That Heaven permit so meek as her To such a Fate to Minister....
34. The Alligator Bride The clock of my days winds down. The cat eats sparrows outside my window. Once, she brought me a small rabbit Which we devoured together, under The Empire Table While the men shrieked Repossessing the gold umbrella. Now the beard on my clock turns white. My cat stares into dark corners Missing her gold umbrella. […]...
35. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 118. Contemplate all this work of Tim Contemplate all this work of Time, The giant labouring in his youth; Nor dream of human love and truth, As dying Nature’s earth and lime; But trust that those we call the dead Are breathers of an ampler day For ever nobler ends. They say, The solid earth whereon we tread In tracts of fluent […]...
36. I sing to use the Waiting I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I Till His best step approaching We journey to the Day And tell each other how We sung To Keep the Dark away....
37. Because You Asked About The Line Between Prose And Poetry Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle That while you watched turned into pieces of snow Riding a gradient invisible From silver aslant to random, white, and slow. There came a moment that you couldn’t tell. And then they clearly flew instead of fell....
38. Laughing Corn THERE was a high majestic fooling Day before yesterday in the yellow corn. And day after to-morrow in the yellow corn There will be high majestic fooling. The ears ripen in late summer And come on with a conquering laughter, Come on with a high and conquering laughter. The long-tailed blackbirds are hoarse. One of […]...
39. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
40. There's the Battle of Burgoyne There’s the Battle of Burgoyne Over, every Day, By the Time that Man and Beast Put their work away “Sunset” sounds majestic But that solemn War Could you comprehend it You would chastened stare...