All Poems
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Holy Ground
© Norman Rowland Gale
Shy maids have haunts of still delight,
The lover glades he never tells;
And one is mine where mass the bright
And odoured chimes of foxglove-bells.
Dream Song 33: An apple arc'd toward Kleitos; whose great King
© John Berryman
An apple arc'd toward Kleitos; whose great King
wroth & of wine did study where his sword,
sneaked away, might be . . .
with swollen lids staggered up and clung
dim to the cloth of gold. An un-Greek word
blister, to him guard,
Dream Song 129: Thin as a sheet his mother came to him
© John Berryman
Thin as a sheet his mother came to him
during the screaming evenings after he did it,
touched F.J.'s dead hand.
The parlour was dark, he was the first pall-bearer in,
he gave himself a dare & then did it,
the thing was quite unplanned,
The Hoofs Of The Horses
© William Henry Ogilvie
The hoofs of the horses! Oh! witching and sweet
Is the music earth steals from the iron-shod feet;
No whisper of lover, no trilling of bird
Can stir me as hoofs of the horses have stirred.
Dream Song 123: Daples my floor the eastern sun, my house faces north
© John Berryman
Dapples my floor the eastern sun, my house faces north,
I have nothing to say except that it dapples my floor
and it would dapple me
if I lay on that floor, as-well-forthwith
I have done, trying well to mount a thought
not carelessly
Dream Song 116: Through the forest, followed, Henry made his silky way
© John Berryman
Through the forest, followed, Henry made his silky way,
No chickadee was troubled, small moss smiled
on his swift passage.
But there were those ahead when at midday
they met in a clearing and lookt at each other awhile.
To kill was not the message.
The Laverock
© George MacDonald
Laverock i' the lift,
Hae ye nae sang-thrift,
'At ye scatter 't sae heigh, and lat it a' drift?
Wasterfu laverock!
Dream Song 108: Sixteen below. Our care like stranded hulls
© John Berryman
Sixteen below. Our care like stranded hulls
litter all day our little Avenues.
It was 28 below.
No one goes anywhere. Fabulous calls
to duty clank. Icy dungeons, though,
have much to mention to you.
Sonnet 30: Whether the Turkish New Moon
© Sir Philip Sidney
Whether the Turkish new moon minded be
To fill his horns this year on Christian coast;
How Poles' right king means, with leave of host,
To warm with ill-made fire cold Muscovy;
Dream Song 95: The surly cop looked out at me in sleep
© John Berryman
The surly cop looked out at me in sleep
insect-like. Guess, who was the insect.
I'd asked him in my robe
& hospital gown in the elevator politely
why someone saw so many police around,
and without speaking he looked.
Dream Song 118: He wondered: Do I love? all this applause
© John Berryman
He wondered: Do I love? all this applause,
young beauties sitting at my feet & all,
and all.
It tires me out, he pondered: I'm tempted to break laws
and love myself, or the stupid questions asked me
move me to homicideâ
An Ode. The Merchant, To Secure
© Matthew Prior
The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrow'd name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure:
But Cloe is my real flame.
Dream Song 17: Muttered Henry:âLord of matter, thus
© John Berryman
Muttered Henry:âLord of matter, thus:
upon some more unquiet spirit knock,
my madnesses have cease.
All the quarter astonishes a lonely out & back.
They set their clocks by Henry House,
the steadiest man on the block.
Dream Song 68: I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing
© John Berryman
I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing,
and I went on: Miss Bessie soundin good
that one, that night of all,
I feelin fari myself, taxes & things
seem to be back in line, like everybody should
and nobody in the snow on call
Dream Song 80: Op. posth. no. 3
© John Berryman
It's buried at a distance, on my insistence, buried.
Weather's severe there, which it will not mind.
I miss it.
O happies before & during & between the times it got married.
I hate the love of leaving it behind,
deteriorating & hopeless that.
Life
© William Schwenck Gilbert
First you're born - and I'll be bound you
Find a dozen strangers round you.
Dream Song 59: Henry's Meditation in the Kremlin
© John Berryman
Down on the cathedrals, as from the Giralda
in a land no crueller, and over the walls
to domes & river look
from Great John's belfry, Ivan-Veliky,
whose thirty-one are still
to hail who storms no father's throne. Bell, book
