All Poems
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A Gallop From The Train
© William Henry Ogilvie
Though I can't afford a hunter -more's the pity,
I love a rousing gallop like the rest!-
Every morning as I travel to the city
I have five and forty minutes of the best.
The End Of The Weekend
© Anthony Evan Hecht
A dying firelight slides along the quirt
Of the cast iron cowboy where he leans
Against my father's books. The lariat
Whirls into darkness. My girl in skin tight jeans
Fingers a page of Captain Marriat
Inviting insolent shadows to her shirt.
A Worldly Death-Bed
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Hush! speak in accents soft and low,
And treat with careful stealth
More Light! More Light!
© Anthony Evan Hecht
For Heinrich Blucher and Hannah Arendt
Composed in the Tower before his execution
These moving verses, and being brought at that time
Painfully to the stake, submitted, declaring thus:
"I implore my God to witness that I have made no crime."
Watching Unto God In The Night Season
© William Cowper
Sleep at last has fled these eyes,
Nor do I regret his flight,
More alert my spirits rise,
And my heart is free and light.
Lizards And Snakes
© Anthony Evan Hecht
On the summer road that ran by our front porch
Lizards and snakes came out to sun.
It was hot as a stove out there, enough to scorch
A buzzard's foot. Still, it was fun
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 05:
© Conrad Aiken
The cigarette-smoke loops and slides above us,
Dipping and swirling as the waiter passes;
You strike a match and stare upon the flame.
The tiny fire leaps in your eyes a moment,
And dwindles away as silently as it came.
The After-Glow
© Mathilde Blind
Oh heart, I ask, seeing that the orb of day
Has sunk below, yet left to sky and sea
His glory's spiritual after-shine:
I ask if Love, whose sun hath set for thee,
May not touch grief with his memorial ray,
And lend to loss itself a joy divine?
The Chosen Cliff.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
HERE in silence the lover fondly mused on his loved one;Gladly he spake to me thus: "Be thou my witness, thou stone!
Yet thou must not be vainglorious, thou hast many companions;Unto each rock on the plain, where I, the happy one, dwell,
Unto each tree of the wood that I cling to, as onward I ramble,'Be thou a sign of my bliss!' shout I, and then 'tis ordain'd.
Yet to thee only I lend a voice, as a Muse from the peopleChooseth one for herself, kissing his lips as a friend." 1782.
A Hymn To My God
© Sir Henry Wotton
OH thou great Power, in whom I move,
For whom I live, to whom I die,
The Yelpers.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OUR rides in all directions bend,For business or for pleasure,
Yet yelpings on our steps attend,And barkings without measure.
The dog that in our stable dwells,After our heels is striding,
And all the while his noisy yellsBut show that we are riding. 1815.*
Dream-Land (I)
© Frances Anne Kemble
All the night long you come to me in dreams,
My lady dear! Ah, wherefore do you so?
To The Husbandman.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XXI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
But when they had gone past him every one,
With new resolve begotten of his dream,
Adrian arose and followed where the stone
Yawned for his love, and there unseen by them
The Same, Expanded.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
And people then will alter their mind.
If courage is gone--then all is gone!
'Twere better that thou hadst never been born.
Decaying Lambskins
© Robinson Jeffers
After all, we also stand on a height. Our blood and our culture
have passed the flood-marks of any world
Three Palinodias.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Beginning, rudely, I admit,
To treat the lady with a text.
To this she hearken'd not at all,
But hasten'd to his principal:
"None are so wise, they say, as you,--
Is not the world enough for two?
Three Island Songs
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
O, THE gray rocks of the islands and the hemlock green above them,
The foam beneath the wild rose bloom, the star above the shoal.
When I am old and weary I'll wake my heart to love them,
For the blue ways of the islands are wound about my soul.
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My Only Property.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Which from my bosom seeks to flow,
And each propitious passing hour
That suffers me in all its power
November
© John Keble
Red oer the forest peers the setting sun;
The line of yellow light dies fast away
That crownd the eastern copse; and chill and dun
Falls on the moor the brief November day.
