To The Right Honourable The Lady Penelope Dowager Of The Late Vis-Count Bayning

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1. On The Death Of The Right Honourable The Lord Viscount Bayning Though after Death, Thanks lessen into Praise, And Worthies be not crown’d with gold, but bayes; Shall we not thank? To praise Thee all agree; We Debtors must out doe it, heartily. Deserved Nobility of True Descent, Though not so old in Thee grew Ancient: We number not the Tree of Branched Birth, But genealogie […]...
2. Sonnet 43 – How do I love thee? Let me count the ways How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee […]...
3. On the Death of the Honourable Mr. James Thynne Farewell, lov’d Youth! since ’twas the Will of Heaven So soon to take, what had so late been giv’n; And thus our Expectations to destroy, Raising a Grief, where we had form’d a Joy; Who once believ’d, it was the Fates Design In Him to double an Illustrious Line, And in a second Channel spread […]...
4. Tho' I get home how late how late Tho’ I get home how late how late So I get home – ’twill compensate Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me When Night descending dumb and dark They hear my unexpected knock Transporting must the moment be Brewed from decades of Agony! To think just how the fire will burn […]...
5. Penelope to Ulysses REturn my dearest Lord, at length return, Let me no longer your sad absence mourn, Ilium in Dust, does no more Work afford, No more Employment for your Wit or Sword. Why did not the fore-seeing Gods destroy, Helin the Fire-brand both of Greece and Troy, E’re yet the Fatal Youth her Face had seen, […]...
6. Penelope In the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the world and sky are one, He shall ride the silver seas, He shall cut the glittering wave. I shall sit at home, and rock; Rise, to heed a neighbor’s knock; Brew my tea, and snip my thread; Bleach the linen for […]...
7. I reckon when I count it all I reckon when I count it all First Poets Then the Sun Then Summer Then the Heaven of God And then the List is done But, looking back the First so seems To Comprehend the Whole The Others look a needless Show So I write Poets All Their Summer lasts a Solid Year They can […]...
8. Penelope's Song Little soul, little perpetually undressed one, Do now as I bid you, climb The shelf-like branches of the spruce tree; Wait at the top, attentive, like A sentry or look-out. He will be home soon; It behooves you to be Generous. You have not been completely Perfect either; with your troublesome body You have done […]...
9. 8 Count from my bed I watch 3 birds On a telephone Wire. One flies Off. Then Another. One is left, Then It too Is gone. My typewriter is Tombstone Still. And I am Reduced to bird Watching. Just thought I’d Let you Know, Fucker....
10. Impromptu, to Lady Winchelsea In vain you boast Poetic Names of yore, And cite those Sapho’s we admire no more: Fate doom’d the Fall of ev’ry Female Wit, But doom’d it then when first Ardelia writ. Of all Examples by the World confest, I knew Ardelia could not quote the best; Who, like her Mistress on Britannia’s Throne; Fights, […]...
11. BALLAD OF THE BANISHED AND RETURNING COUNT [Goethe began to write an opera called Lowenstuhl, Founded upon the old tradition which forms the subject of this Ballad, But he never carried out his design.] OH, enter old minstrel, thou time-honour’d one! We children are here in the hall all alone, The portals we straightway will bar. Our mother is praying, our father […]...
12. Poems Done on a Late Night Car I. CHICKENS I am The Great White Way of the city: When you ask what is my desire, I answer: “Girls fresh as country wild flowers, With young faces tired of the cows and barns, Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries, Slender supple girls with shapely legs, Lure in the […]...
13. Penelope name meaning thread weaver or duck (these may be guesses from obscurity) Ten-year faithful wife whilst her husband Was gallivanting round the islands Deceiving the suitors by her shroud-unpicking Or maybe not such a savoury dame having A high time with those after her favours Allegedly allowing hermes up her skirts And becoming the mother […]...
14. To The Right Honourable William, Earl Of Dartmouth, His Majesty's Principal Secretary Of The State For North-America HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: The northern clime beneath her genial ray, Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway: Elate with hope her race no longer mourns, Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns, While in thine hand with pleasure we behold The silken reins, and Freedom’s charms […]...
15. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
16. To The Honourable T. H. Esq; On the Death Of His Daughter WHILE deep you mourn beneath the cypress-shade The hand of Death, and your dear daughter Laid In dust, whose absence gives your tears to flow, And racks your bosom with incessant woe, Let Recollection take a tender part, Assuage the raging tortures of your heart, Still the wild tempest of tumultuous grief, And pour the […]...
17. To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of the Lady's Brother and Sister On Death’s domain intent I fix my eyes, Where human nature in vast ruin lies, With pensive mind I search the drear abode, Where the great conqu’ror has his spoils bestow’d; There there the offspring of six thousand years In endless numbers to my view appears: Whole kingdoms in his gloomy den are thrust, And […]...
18. Late, O Miller LATE, O miller, The birds are silent, The darkness falls. In the house the lights are lighted. See, in the valley they twinkle, The lights of home. Late, O lovers, The night is at hand; Silence and darkness Clothe the land....
19. On The Late Indecent Liberties Taken With The Remains Of Milton “Me too, perchance, in future days, The sculptured stone shall show, With Paphian myrtle or with bays Parnassian on my brow. But I, or e’er that season come, Escaped from every care, Shall reach my refuge in the tomb, And sleep securely there.” So sang, in Roman tone and style, The youthful bard, ere long […]...
20. A Late Walk When I go up through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew, Half closes the garden path. And when I come to the garden ground, The whir of sober birds Up from the tangle of withered weeds Is sadder than any words A tree beside the wall stands bare, […]...
21. Portrait of a Lady Thou hast committed- Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead. The Jew of Malta. I AMONG the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange itself-as it will seem to do- With “I have saved this afternoon for you”; And four wax candles in the […]...
22. Late Light Rain filled the streets Once a year, rising almost To door and window sills, Battering walls and roofs Until it cleaned away the mess We’d made. My father told Me this, he told me it ran Downtown and spilled into The river, which in turn Emptied finally into the sea. He said this only once […]...
23. Our Lady of the Mine The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv, And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv; ‘T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine, somewhere along in summer, There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer; His name wuz Silas Pettibone, a’ artist by perfession, With […]...
24. Late Moon 2 a. m. December, and still no mon Rising from the river. My mother Home from the beer garden Stands before the open closet Her hands still burning. She smooths the fur collar, The scarf, opens the gloves Crumpled like letters. Nothing is lost She says to the darkness, nothing. The moon finally above the […]...
25. On a young Lady Whose LORD was Travelling NO sooner I pronounced Celindas name, But Troops of wing’d Pow’rs did chant the fame: Not those the Poets Bows and Arrows lend, But such as on the Altar do attend. Celinda nam’d, Flow’rs spring up from the Ground, Excited meerly with the Charming Sound. Celinda, the Courts Glory, and its fear, The gaz’d at […]...
26. Count That Day Lost If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have done, And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who heard, One glance most kind That fell like sunshine where it went Then you may count that day well spent. But if, through all […]...
27. The Count Of Hapsburg At Aix-la-Chapelle, in imperial array, In its halls renowned in old story, At the coronation banquet so gay King Rudolf was sitting in glory. The meats were served up by the Palsgrave of Rhine, The Bohemian poured out the bright sparkling wine, And all the Electors, the seven, Stood waiting around the world-governing one, As […]...
28. When I count the seeds When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye When I con the people Lain so low, To be received as high When I believe the garden Mortal shall not see Pick by faith its blossom And avoid its Bee, I can spare this summer, unreluctantly....
29. Her Late Husband (King's-Hintock, 182-.) “No not where I shall make my own; But dig his grave just by The woman’s with the initialed stone – As near as he can lie – After whose death he seemed to ail, Though none considered why. “And when I also claim a nook, And your feet tread me in, Bestow me, under […]...
30. Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestus from the grave, Who Jove’s great Son to her glad Husband gave, Rescu’d from death by force though pale and faint. Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the old Law did save, And such as yet once more […]...
31. The Funeral of the Late Ex-Provost Rough, Dundee ‘Twas in the year of 1888, and on the 19th of November, Which the friends of the late Ex-Provost Rough will long remember, Because ’twas on the 19th of November his soul took its flight To the happy land above, the land of pure delight. Take him for all in all, he was a very […]...
32. The Ivy-Wife I LONGED to love a full-boughed beech And be as high as he: I stretched an arm within his reach, And signalled unity. But with his drip he forced a breach, And tried to poison me. I gave the grasp of partnership To one of other race A plane: he barked him strip by strip […]...
33. 305. Song-Gudewife, count the lawin GANE is the day, and mirk’s the night, But we’ll ne’er stray for faut o’ light; Gude ale and bratdy’s stars and moon, And blue-red wine’s the risin’ sun. Chorus.-Then gudewife, count the lawin, The lawin, the lawin, Then gudewife, count the lawin, And bring a coggie mair. There’s wealth and ease for gentlemen, And […]...
34. Late Autumn In Venice (After Rilke) The city floats no longer like a bait To hook the nimble darting summer days. The glazed and brittle palaces pulsate and radiate And glitter. Summer’s garden sways, A heap of marionettes hanging down and dangled, Leaves tired, torn, turned upside down and strangled: Until from forest depths, from bony leafless trees A […]...
35. Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o’er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer’s green all girded […]...
36. The Funeral of the Late Prince Henry of Battenberg Alas! Prince Henry of Battenberg is dead! And, I hope, has gone to heaven, its streets to tread, And to sing with God’s saints above, Where all is joy and peace and love. ‘Twas in the year of 1896, and on the 5th of February, Prince Henry was buried at Whippingham – a solemn sight […]...
37. An Almost Made Up Poem I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny Blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny They are small, and the fountain is in France Where you wrote me that last letter and I answered and never heard from you again. You used to write insane poems about ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper […]...
38. Count Eberhard, The Groaner Of Wurtembert. A War Song Now hearken, ye who take delight In boasting of your worth! To many a man, to many a knight, Beloved in peace and brave in fight, The Swabian land gives birth. Of Charles and Edward, Louis, Guy, And Frederick, ye may boast; Charles, Edward, Louis, Frederick, Guy None with Sir Eberhard can vie Himself a […]...
39. Ballade To Our Lady WRITTEN FOR HIS MOTHER Dame du ciel, regents terrienne, Emperiere des infemaux palus…. Lady of Heaven and earth, and therewithal Crowned Empress of the nether clefts of Hell,- I, thy poor Christian, on thy name do call, Commending me to thee, with thee to dwell, Albeit in nought I be commendable. But all mine undeserving […]...
40. EPISTLE II: TO A LADY (Of the Characters of Women) NOTHING so true as what you once let fall, “Most Women have no Characters at all.” Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, And best distinguish’d by black, brown, or fair. How many pictures of one Nymph we view, All how unlike each other, all how true! Arcadia’s Countess, here, in ermin’d pride, Is, […]...