Pet poems

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126

Herrick's Julia

© Bevington Helen

Whenas in perfume Julia went,Then, then, how sweet was the intentOf that inexorable scent.

When you were nine, and I was six years old,Do you remember how we wandered forth,Two small explorers, through the summer fields,With apple turnovers provisioned well,And trampled down the farmer's mowing grass,In haste to pluck the little red-stemmed rose?

And how the farmer in his fury roseWith hot red face, as ogres wore of old,And eyeing angrily his battered grass,With wingèd words he drove the culprits forth,And swore a whipping would be theirs as wellThe next time they profaned his sacred fields?

Regretfully we left those sunny fields(For there alone it grew, our longed-for rose),And sate us down beside a little wellThat bubbled up 'midst stonework grey and old,And watched the slow soft runlets spouting forth,To lose themselves amidst the spongy grass

Trifles

© Anonymous

The massive gates of Circumstance Are turned upon the smallest hinge,And thus some seeming pettiest chance Oft gives our life its after-tinge.

A Sonnet upon the Pitiful Burning of the Globe Playhouse in London

© Anonymous

Now sitt thee downe, Melpomene,Wrapt in a sea-coal robe,And tell the dolefull tragedie,That late was playd at Globe;For noe man that can singe and sayeBut was scard on St

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

© Anonymous

[fol. 91r]

Patience

© Anonymous

Pacience is a poynt, Þa3 hit displese ofte

The Old Man's Wish

© Anonymous

If I live to be old, for I find I go down,Let this be my fate: In a country townMay I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate,And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate

While I Wrote This a Battering Ram of Knives Excavated Old Wounds -- The Poem Attacking Stalin

© Aaron Rafi

There is something deep inside me, I don’t know whoplaced it there

Walking with Mandelstam

© Aaron Rafi

Once I thought that if I walked with you to the endof Russian literature, bumped into Yesenin and hissoft words, mingled with the throng that formedaround Pushkin or waited patiently at the SenateSquare while you threw pieces of Blok, Akhmatovaand poor old Mayakovsky to eager readers whopecked at your references, I would come tounderstand all that you represent

An Open Letter to the Unacknowledged One

© Aaron Rafi

There was no prayer in the camps

"The Undying One" - Canto III

© Caroline Norton

"I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

Epipsychidion

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan one,
Whose empire is the name thou weepest on,
In my heart's temple I suspend to thee
These votive wreaths of withered memory.

Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-Four

© Henry Kendall

I HEAR no footfall beating through the dark,
A lonely gust is loitering at the pane;
There is no sound within these forests stark
Beyond a splash or two of sullen rain;

Written In Australia

THE WIDE sun stares without a cloud:

Whipped by his glances truculent

Vaudracour And Julia

O HAPPY time of youthful lovers (thus
My story may begin) O balmy time,
In which a love-knot on a lady's brow
Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven!