A Pity, We Were Such A Good Invention

Related poetry:

1. Hope is a strange invention Hope is a strange invention A Patent of the Heart In unremitting action Yet never wearing out Of this electric Adjunct Not anything is known But its unique momentum Embellish all we own...
2. Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That She, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain, -Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain – I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, […]...
3. Sonnet I: Loving In Truth Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain: Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain; I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her […]...
4. Astrophel and Stella: I ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: I Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain, Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain, I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe; […]...
5. Pity Me Not Because The Light Of Day Pity me not because the light of day At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea, Nor that a man’s […]...
6. God Has Pity On Kindergarten Children God has pity on kindergarten children, He pities school children less. But adults he pities not at all. He abandons them, And sometimes they have to crawl on all fours In the scorching sand To reach the dressing station, Streaming with blood. But perhaps He will have pity on those who love truly And take […]...
7. 'Tis easier to pity those when dead ‘Tis easier to pity those when dead That which pity previous Would have saved A Tragedy enacted Secures Applause That Tragedy enacting Too seldom does....
8. Modern Love XLIV: They Say That Pity They say, that Pity in Love’s service dwells, A porter at the rosy temple’s gate. I missed him going: but it is my fate To come upon him now beside his wells; Whereby I know that I Love’s temple leave, And that the purple doors have closed behind. Poor soul! if in those early days […]...
9. Mary, Pity Women! You call yourself a man, For all you used to swear, An’ Leave me, as you can, My certain shame to bear? I’ear! You do not care You done the worst you know. I ‘ate you, grinnin’ there…. Ah, Gawd, I love you so! Nice while it lasted, an’ now it is over Tear out […]...
10. The Sea Took Pity The sea took pity: it interposed with doom: ‘I have tall daughters dear that heed my hand: Let Winter wed one, sow them in her womb, And she shall child them on the New-world strand.’ . . . . . . . ....
11. As far from pity, as complaint As far from pity, as complaint As cool to speech as stone As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone As far from time as History As near yourself Today As Children, to the Rainbow’s scarf Or Sunset’s Yellow play To eyelids in the Sepulchre How dumb the Dancer lies While Color’s Revelations […]...
12. The Pity Of Love A pity beyond all telling Is hid in the heart of love: The folk who are buying and selling, The clouds on their journey above, The cold wet winds ever blowing, And the shadowy hazel grove Where mouse-grey waters are flowing, Threaten the head that I love....
13. Pity THE TWINKLING mists of green and gold Afloat in the abyss of air, From out the window high and old We watched together there. The monstrous fabric of the town Lay black below; the cries of pain Came to our ears from up and down The dimly-lighted lane. Olive, your eyes were turned to me, […]...
14. My Own Heart Let Me Have More Have Pity On; Let My own heart let me have more have pity on; let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable; not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet. I cast for comfort I can no more get By groping round my comfortless, than blind Eyes in their dark can day or thirst […]...
15. I cried at Pity not at Pain I cried at Pity not at Pain I heard a Woman say “Poor Child” and something in her voice Convicted me of me So long I fainted, to myself It seemed the common way, And Health, and Laughter, Curious things To look at, like a Toy To sometimes hear “Rich people” buy And see the […]...
16. Sonnet 112: Your love and pity doth th' impression fill Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o’ergreen my bad, my good allow? You are my all the world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tongue; None else to […]...
17. Invention Tonight the moon is a cracker, With a bite out of it Floating in the night, And in a week or so According to the calendar It will probably look Like a silver football, And nine, maybe ten days ago It reminded me of a thin bright claw. But eventually By the end of the […]...
18. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
19. Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
20. Those dying then Those dying then, Knew where they went They went to God’s Right Hand That Hand is amputated now And God cannot be found The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small Better an ignis fatuus Than no illume at all...
21. Preface This book is not about heroes. English Poetry is not yet fit to speak of them. Nor is it about deeds or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, dominion or power, except War. Above all, this book is not concerned with Poetry. The subject of it is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry […]...
22. Ode to Pity 1 Ever musing I delight to tread The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed On disappointed Love. While Philomel on airy hawthorn Bush Sings sweet and Melancholy, And the thrush Converses with the Dove. 2 Gently brawling down the turnpike road, Sweetly noisy falls the Silent […]...
23. The Pity Of It I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, afar From rail-track and from highway, and I heard In field and farmstead many an ancient word Of local lineage like “Thu bist,” “Er war,” “Ich woll,” “Er sholl,” and by-talk similar, Nigh as they speak who in this month’s moon gird At England’s very loins, thereunto spurred By […]...
24. The Pity of the Leaves Vengeful across the cold November moors, Loud with ancestral shame there came the bleak Sad wind that shrieked, and answered with a shriek, Reverberant through lonely corridors. The old man heard it; and he heard, perforce, Words out of lips that were no more to speak – Words of the past that shook the old […]...
25. Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus According to Brueghel When Icarus fell It was spring A farmer was ploughing His field The whole pageantry Of the year was Awake tingling Near The edge of the sea Concerned With itself Sweating in the sun That melted The wings’ wax Unsignificantly Off the coast There was A splash quite unnoticed This was Icarus […]...
26. What Has Happened? The industrialist is having his aeroplane serviced. The priest is wondering what he said in his sermon eight weeks ago About tithes. The generals are putting on civvies and looking like bank clerks. Public officials are getting friendly. The policeman points out the way to the man in the cloth cap. The landlord comes to […]...
27. Dream Song 54: 'NO VISITORS' I thumb the roller to ‘NO VISITORS’ I thumb the roller to And leans against the door. Comfortable in my horseblanket I prop on the costly bed & dream of my wife, My first wife, And my second wife & my son. Insulting, they put guardrails up, As if it were a crib! I growl at the head nurse; we […]...
28. Out of ideas If I don’t write something good tonight I will sleep Without the comforting Canopus of deep believers, If I sleep at all, and this light which ignites My enormous poetic conceit and guides my muse Will suffer and die, my hands be stilled. Tomorrow I might read these words and endure The bite of astral […]...
29. 511. Song-O aye my wife she dang me Chorus-O aye my wife she dang me, An’ aft my wife she bang’d me, If ye gie a woman a’ her will, Gude faith! she’ll soon o’er-gang ye. ON peace an’ rest my mind was bent, And, fool I was! I married; But never honest man’s intent Sane cursedly miscarried. O aye my wife, &c. […]...
30. Hymn To Life The hair falling on your forehead suddenly lifted. Suddenly something stirred on the ground. The trees are whispering in the dark. Your bare arms will be cold. Far off where we can’t see, the moon must be rising. It hasn’t reached us yet, slipping through the leaves to light up your shoulder. But I know […]...
31. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
32. Sonnet 103: Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, That having such a scope to show her pride, The argument all bare is of more worth Than when it hath my added praise beside. O, blame me not if I no more can write! Look in your glass, and there appears a face That overgoes my blunt […]...
33. 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 […]...
34. Sonnet XXI: A Witless Galant A witless gallant a young wench that woo’d (Yet his dull spirit her not one jot could move), Entreated me, as e’er I wish’d his good, To write him but one sonnet to his love; When I, as fast as e’er my pen could trot, Pour’d out what first from quick invention came, Nor never […]...
35. 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 […]...
36. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
37. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
38. First Sight Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro All they find, outside the fold, Is a wretched width of cold. As they wait beside the ewe, Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies Hidden round them, […]...
39. TO HIS PATERNAL COUNTRY O earth! earth! earth! hear thou my voice, and be Loving and gentle for to cover me! Banish’d from thee I live; ne’er to return, Unless thou giv’st my small remains an urn....
40. Rest ON me to rest, my bird, my bird: The swaying branches of my heart Are blown by every wind toward The home whereto their wings depart. Build not your nest, my bird, on me; I know no peace but ever sway: O lovely bird, be free, be free, On the wild music of the day. […]...