Animal poems
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From Pent-up Aching Rivers.
© Walt Whitman
FROM pent-up, aching rivers;
From that of myself, without which I were nothing;
From what I am determind to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men;
From my own voice resonantsinging the phallus,
Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances.
© Walt Whitman
OF the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after allthat we may be deluded,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable only,
Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun.
© Walt Whitman
1
GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling;
Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard;
Give me a field where the unmowd grass grows;
Spontaneous Me.
© Walt Whitman
SPONTANEOUS me, Nature,
The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with,
The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder,
The hill-side whitend with blossoms of the mountain ash,
Passage to India.
© Walt Whitman
1
SINGING my days,
Singing the great achievements of the present,
Singing the strong, light works of engineers,
As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontarios Shores.
© Walt Whitman
1
AS I sat alone, by blue Ontarios shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace returnd, and the dead that return no
more,
This Compost.
© Walt Whitman
1
SOMETHING startles me where I thought I was safest;
I withdraw from the still woods I loved;
I will not go now on the pastures to walk;
To Think of Time.
© Walt Whitman
1
TO think of timeof all that retrospection!
To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward!
Poem of Joys.
© Walt Whitman
1
O TO make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Miracles.
© Walt Whitman
WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Song at Sunset.
© Walt Whitman
SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me!
Hour prophetichour resuming the past!
Inflating my throatyou, divine average!
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.
Walt Whitman.
© Walt Whitman
1
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.
Transcription Of Organ Music
© Allen Ginsberg
The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
kitchen crooked to take a place in the light,
the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.
The Cat And The Moon
© William Butler Yeats
The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
The Circus Animals' Desertion
© William Butler Yeats
II sought a theme and sought for it in vain,
I sought it daily for six weeks or so.
Maybe at last, being but a broken man,
I must be satisfied with my heart, although
Death
© William Butler Yeats
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Sailing To Byzantium
© William Butler Yeats
IThat is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Satyr
© John Wilmot
Were I (who to my cost already am
One of those strange prodigious Creatures Man)
A Spirit free, to choose for my own share,
What Case of Flesh, and Blood, I pleas'd to weare,
A Satyre Against Mankind
© John Wilmot
Thus sir, you see what human nature craves,
Most men are cowards, all men should be knaves;
The difference lies, as far as I can see.
Not in the thing itself, but the degree;
And all the subject matter of debate
Is only, who's a knave of the first rate
To Fly In Just Your Suit
© Les Murray
Humans are flown, or fall;
humans can't fly.
We're down with the gravity-stemmers,
rare, thick-boned, often basso.
