To one fair lady out of Court,
And two fair ladies in,
Who think the Turk and Pope a sport,
Come gentle Air! th' AEolian shepherd said,
While Procris panted in the secret shade:
Seeing we never found gay fairyland
And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are soon
For that new brid
In Worcester, Massachusetts,
I went with Aunt Consuelo
to keep her dentist's appointment
"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,
That you haunt my door?"
—Surely it is not I she's wanting;
Descend ye Nine! descend and sing;
The breathing instruments inspire,
Wake into voice each
Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said,
Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.
Blessed is the One who lifts the slow sun
above this morning's raw orange edge,
who moves the ew
In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The one I was searching for on the earth and in heaven
Appeared residing in the recesses of my own
War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
The foul torna
Flutt'ring spread thy purple Pinions,
Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart;
I a Slave in thy Dominions
Thousands of tiny
fists tamping the surface of the lake
flowing like a wide
river gone crazy,
The earth and sky were unknown worlds to me
Only the expanse of mother's bosom was a world to me
Silence! coeval with Eternity;
Thou wert, ere Nature's-self began to be,
'Twas one vast Nothi
Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would tha
Some little while ago, I had a mood
When what we know as 'Nature' seemed to me
So sympathetic, amp
What beck'ning ghost, along the moon-light shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
Here is a coast; here is a harbor;
here, after a meager diet of horizon, is some scenery:
Say, lovely youth, that dost my heart command,
Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand?
Days that cannot bring you near
or will not,
Distance trying to appear
something more obstinate,
Ye shades, where sacred truth is sought;
Groves, where immortal Sages taught;
NOTHING so true as what you once let fall,
"Most Women have no Characters at all."
Matter too so
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the s
Fain would my Muse the flow'ry Treasures sing,
And humble glories of the youthful Spring;
The brown enormous odor he lived by
was too close, with its breathing and thick hair,
for him to j
O Sun! The world's essence and motivator you are
The organizer of the book of the world you are
The hair falling on your forehead
Suddenly something stirred on the ground.
Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state:
Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends.
All hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade!
Scene of my youthful loves and happier hours!
Far from the ignoble strife of Man's tavern you are
The wine-cup adorning the sky's assemblage you
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted,
Tho' Artemisia talks, by fits,
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits;
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and
So when Curll's Stomach the strong Drench o'ercame,
(Infus'd in Vengenance of insulted Fame)
Earliest morning, switching all the tracks
that cross the sky from cinder star to star,
In the cold, cold parlor
my mother laid out Arthur
beneath the chromographs:
Edward, Prince of Wa
To the sagging wharf
few ships could come.
The population numbered
two giants, an idiot, a dwarf,
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
To low ambition,
The tumult in the heart
keeps asking questions.
And then it stops and undertakes to answer
The Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come;
Why stays Smilinda i
This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are b
Chain of days and nights-artificer of all events
Chain of days and nights –fountain of life and o
Women ben full of Ragerie,
Yet swinken not sans secresie.
Thilke Moral shall ye understond,
When simple Macer, now of high renown,
First fought a Poet's Fortune in the Town,
'Twas all th' Am
Ye Lords and Commons, Men of Wit,
And Pleasure about Town;
Read this ere you translate one Bit
I know the thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy be silent and attend!)
I know a Reasonable Woman,
The trees along this city street,
Save for the traffic and the trains,
Would make a sound as thin
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it wil
Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for examp
This division must end.
Again I'm forced to amputate
the chicken's limb; slit the joint,
Dear, damn'd distracting town, farewell!
Thy fools no more I'll tease:
This year in peace, ye crit
When wise Ulysses, from his native coast
Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss'd,
Across the floor flits the mechanical toy,
fit for a king of several centuries back.
A little circ
How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Alone on the railroad track
I walked with pounding heart.
The ties were too close together
For a Child of 1918
My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
"Be sure to remember
One day Intellect said to the heart
'A guide to the misguided ones I am
Being on the earth I rea
Dayar-E-Ishk Mein Apna Maqam Paida Kar
Naya Zamana Naye Subuh Sham Paida Kar
Khuda Agar Dil-E-Fi
One day a spider said to a fly
'Though you pass this way daily
My hut has never been honored by
The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone
And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne.
Oh Tyrant Love! hast thou possest
The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast?
O withered rose! How can I still call you a rose?
How can I call you the longing of nightingale's h
Sit on the bed. I'm blind, and three parts shell.
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
1 Move him into the sun--
2 Gently its touch awoke him once,
3 At home, whispering of fields unsow
O Pathos of Love! You are a glossy pearl
Beware, you should not appear among strangers
Once from a big, big building,
When I was small, small,
The queer folk in the windows
I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not s
Hard seeds of hate I planted
That should by now be grown,—
Rough stalks, and from thick stamens
Give away her gowns,
Give away her shoes;
She has no more use
For her fragrant gowns;
Being Young and Green, I said in love's despite:
Never in the world will I to living wight
I shall die, but
that is all that I shall do for Death.
I hear him leading his horse out of the s
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick
Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures:
My heart is what it was before,
A house where people come and go;
But it is winter with your love,
Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere
(Horace, Epistles II.i.267)
While you, great patron of mankind, s
Celia, we know, is sixty-five,
Yet Celia's face is seventeen;
Thus winter in her breast must live,
Here, shunning idleness at once and praise,
This radiant pile nine rural sisters raise;
I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted
it's 1962 March 28th
I'm sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
night is falling
Parson, these things in thy possessing
Are better than the Bishop's blessing.
A Wife that makes co
INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to
In my breast
A wail of grief
Without any spark or flash
Authors the world and their dull brains have traced
To fix the ground where Paradise was placed;
Tended by Faustina
yes in a crazy house
upon a crazy bed,
frail, of chipped enamel,
as a child he never plucked the wings off flies
he didn't tie tin cans to cats' tails
or lock beet
At six o'clock we were waiting for coffee,
waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb
O you whose life is confined in the material world
O you whose soul is imprisoned in the cage
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost tha
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is man.
Plac'd on t
NOW I will open one more gate of truth,
I will tell thee another tale.
The coal in the mine said t
In vain you boast Poetic Names of yore,
And cite those Sapho's we admire no more:
Fate doom'd the
I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
I wish you told me from the start
that you were gonna break my heart
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
First in these fields I try the sylvan strains,
Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains:
Awake, my ST. JOHN!(1) leave all meaner things
To low ambition, and the pride of Kings.
Let us (
Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud
At dawn, a fortnight overdue,
Jostling the doors, and tearing th