Potions

Related poetry:

1. 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 […]...
2. Those Annual Bills These annual bills! these annual bills! How many a song their discord trills Of “truck” consumed, enjoyed, forgot, Since I was skinned by last year’s lot! Those joyous beans are passed away; Those onions blithe, O where are they? Once loved, lost, mourned now vexing ILLS Your shades troop back in annual bills! And so […]...
3. Sonnet 119: What potions have I drunk of Siren tears What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within, Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears, Still losing when I saw my self to win! What wretched errors hath my heart committed, Whilst it hath thought it self so blessèd never! How have mine eyes out of their […]...
4. 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 […]...
5. The Ballad Of A Bachelor Listen, ladies, while I sing The ballad of John Henry King. John Henry was a bachelor, His age was thirty-three or four. Two maids for his affection vied, And each desired to be his bride, And bravely did they strive to bring Unto their feet John Henry King. John Henry liked them both so well, […]...
6. A Ballad Of The Trees And The Master Into the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him When into the woods He came. Out of the woods my […]...
7. The Right to Grief To Certain Poets About to Die TAKE your fill of intimate remorse, perfumed sorrow, Over the dead child of a millionaire, And the pity of Death refusing any check on the bank Which the millionaire might order his secretary to Scratch off And get cashed. Very well, You for your grief and I for mine. […]...
8. This Morning Enter without knocking, hard-working ant. I’m just sitting here mulling over What to do this dark, overcast day? It was a night of the radio turned down low, Fitful sleep, vague, troubling dreams. I woke up lovesick and confused. I thought I heard Estella in the garden singing And some bird answering her, But it […]...
9. The Absence I speak to you across cities I speak to you across plains My mouth is upon your pillow Both faces of the walls come meeting My voice discovering you I speak to you of eternity O cities memories of cities Cities wrapped in our desires Cities come early cities come lately Cities strong and cities […]...
10. Ice Handler I KNOW an ice handler who wears a flannel shirt with Pearl buttons the size of a dollar, And he lugs a hundred-pound hunk into a saloon ice- Box, helps himself to cold ham and rye bread, Tells the bartender it’s hotter than yesterday and will be Hotter yet to-morrow, by Jesus, And is on […]...
11. Morning Song Of Senlin from Senlin: A Biography It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do. Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, […]...
12. The Gardener XIII: I Asked Nothing I asked nothing, only stood at the Edge of the wood behind the tree. Languor was still upon the eyes Of the dawn, and the dew in the air. The lazy smell of the damp grass Hung in the thin mist above the earth. Under the banyan tree you were Milking the cow with your […]...
13. Father My father knows the proper way The nation should be run; He tells us children every day Just what should now be done. He knows the way to fix the trusts, He has a simple plan; But if the furnace needs repairs, We have to hire a man. My father, in a day or two […]...
14. The Song of the Oak The Druids waved their golden knives And danced around the Oak When they had sacrificed a man; But though the learned search and scan No single modern person can Entirely see the joke. But though they cut the throats of men They cut not down the tree, And from the blood the saplings spring Of […]...
15. The Gardener LXIV: I Spent My Day I spent my day on the scorching Hot dust of the road. Now, in the cool of the evening, I Knock at the door of the inn. It is Deserted and in ruins. A grim ashath tree spreads its Hungry clutching roots through the Gaping fissures of the walls. Days have been when wayfarers Came […]...
16. In the Country This life is sweetest; in this wood I hear no children cry for food; I see no woman, white with care; No man, with muscled wasting here. No doubt it is a selfish thing To fly from human suffering; No doubt he is a selfish man, Who shuns poor creatures, sad and wan. But ’tis […]...
17. We Two Boys Together Clinging WE two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going-North and South excursions making, Power enjoying-elbows stretching-fingers clutching, Arm’d and fearless-eating, drinking, sleeping, loving, No law less than ourselves owning-sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening, Misers, menials, priests alarming-air breathing, water drinking, on the turf or the sea-beach dancing, Cities wrenching, […]...
18. I robbed the Woods I robbed the Woods The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses My fantasy to please. I scanned their trinkets curious I grasped I bore away What will the solemn Hemlock What will the Oak tree say?...
19. Shagbark Hickory IN the moonlight under a shag-bark hickory tree Watching the yellow shadows melt in hoof-pools, Listening to the yes and the no of a woman’s hands, I kept my guess why the night was glad. The night was lit with a woman’s eyes. The night was crossed with a woman’s hands, The night kept humming […]...
20. Madam Life's a Piece in Bloom Madam Life’s a piece in bloom Death goes dogging everywhere: She’s the tenant of the room, He’s the ruffian on the stair. You shall see her as a friend, You shall bilk him once or twice; But he’ll trap you in the end, And he’ll stick you for her price. With his kneebones at your […]...
21. Dream Song 107: Three 'coons come at his garbage. He be cross Three ‘coons come at his garbage. He be cross, I figuring porcupine & took Sir poker Unbarring Mr door, & then screen door. Ah, but the little ‘coon, Hardly a foot (not counting tail) got in with Two more at the porch-edge And they swirled, before some two swerve off This side of crab tree, […]...
22. The Sin Of Hamlet The horns in the harbor booming, vaguely, Fog, forgotten, yesterday, conclusion, Nostalgic, noising dim sorrow, calling To sleep is it? I think so, and childhood, Not the door opened and the stair descended, The voice answered, the choice announced, the Trigger touched in the sharp declaration! And when it comes, escape is small; the door […]...
23. Journey Of The Magi ‘A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.’ And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, […]...
24. LETTER TO MICHAEL HOROVITZ It is time after thirty years We had our Poetry Renaissance Rise, Children of Albion, rise! It is time after nightmares of sleep When we walked the streets of inner cities Our poems among the burnt-out houses And cars, whispering compassion To the addicts shaking and the homeless Waking and those who have come apart […]...
25. Complaint They call me and I go. It is a frozen road Past midnight, a dust Of snow caught In the rigid wheeltracks. The door opens. I smile, enter and Shake off the cold. Here is a great woman On her side in the bed. She is sick, Perhaps vomiting, Perhaps laboring To give birth to […]...
26. Cuckoo Song (Spring begins in southern England on the 14th April, on which date the Old Woman lets the Cuckoo out of her basket at Heathfield Fair locally known as Heffle Cuckoo Fair.) Tell it to the locked-up trees, Cuckoo, bring your song here! Warrant, Act and Summons, please, For Spring to pass along here! Tell old […]...
27. Forget-Me-Not A gallant knight and his betroth’d bride, Were walking one day by a river side, They talk’d of love, and they talk’d of war, And how very foolish lovers are. At length the bride to the knight did say, ‘There have been many young ladies led astray By believing in all their lovers said, And […]...
28. The New Colossus Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor […]...
29. To Qiwu Qian Bound Home After Failing an Examination In a happy reign there should be no hermits; The wise and able should consult together…. So you, a man of the eastern mountains, Gave up your life of picking herbs And came all the way to the Gate of Gold But you found your devotion unavailing. …To spend the Day of No Fire on […]...
30. Murderers He was my best and oldest friend. I’d known him all my life. And yet I’m sure towards the end He knew I loved his wife, And wonder, wonder if it’s why He came so dreadfully to die. He drove his car at racing speed And crashed into a tree. How could he have so […]...
31. Songs Dawn coming in over the fields Of darkness takes me by surprise And I look up from my solitary road Pleased not to be alone, the birds Now choiring from the orange groves Huddling to the low hills. But sorry That this night has ended, a night In which you spoke of how little love […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. Lover's Gifts LXX: Take Back Your Coins Take back your coins, King’s Councillor. I am of those women you Sent to the forest shrine to decoy the young ascetic who had never Seen a women. I failed in your bidding. Dimly day was breaking when the hermit boy came to bathe in The stream, his tawny locks crowded on his shoulders, like […]...
34. To His Two Children In the land of Wu the mulberry leaves are green, And thrice the silkworms have gone to sleep. In East Luh where my family stay, I wonder who is sowing those fields of ours. I cannot be back in time for the spring doings, Yet I can help nothing, traveling on the river. The south […]...
35. The Appology ‘Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule I am alone forbid to play the fool To follow through the Groves a wand’ring Muse And fain’d Idea’s for my pleasures chuse Why shou’d it in my Pen be held a fault Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought Whilst Lamia to […]...
36. A Door just opened on a street A Door just opened on a street I lost was passing by An instant’s Width of Warmth disclosed And Wealth and Company. The Door as instant shut And I I lost was passing by Lost doubly but by contrast most Informing misery...
37. The Way Through the Woods They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods Before they planted the trees. It is underneath the coppice and heath, And the thin anemones. Only the keeper sees That, where the ring-dove […]...
38. Christmas Trees (A Christmas Circular Letter) THE CITY had withdrawn into itself And left at last the country to the country; When between whirls of snow not come to lie And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove A stranger to our yard, who looked the city, Yet did in country fashion in that there He […]...
39. The Old Poet I will be glad because it is the Spring; I will forget the winter in my heart Dead hopes and withered promise; and will wring A little joy from life ere life depart. For spendthrift youth with passion-blinded eyes, Stays not to see how woods and fields are bright; He hears the phantom voices call, […]...
40. Item This, with a face Like a mashed blood orange That suddenly Would get eyes And look up and scream War! War! Clutching her Thick, ragged coat A piece of hat Broken shoes War! War! Stumbling for dread At the young men Who with their gun-butts Shove her Sprawling- A note At the foot of the […]...