All poetry Collection

Beggar

Beggar,
There he stoops all day,
Wrinkled,
Grey-haired,
Senile,
With his stained beard, and his pavement bowl,
Hand hopefully outstretched,
Entreating,
Entreating with his eyes,
Entreating with his tongue,
Entreating with his hand,

Yet we saunter by,
Eyes earthwards riveted.
Sometimes a gnarled stick,
Sometimes none,
Always the filthy kanzu,

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Hyperion

BOOK I
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve’s one star,
Sat gray-hair’d Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung about his head
Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not

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Summer Song

THERE are white moon daisies in the mist of the meadow
Where the flowered grass scatters its seeds like spray,
There are purple orchis by the wood-ways’ shadow,
There are pale dog-roses by the white highway;
And the grass, the grass is tall, the grass is up for hay,
With daisies white like silver and buttercups like gold,
And it’s

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A Valentine

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines! — they hold a treasure
Divine — a talisman — an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure —
The

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Stricken Soul

Wounded sore the stricken soul
Lies bleeding and unbound
Tears of anguish flow
The broken heart of woe
Feels for all our grief

Broken heart and downcast eyes
Bound by many a chain
Heart weary, restless soul
Peace long sought
The calm of hills above

Shattered and bruised soul
Witching pleasures of vain world charm

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Lines

UNFELT unheard, unseen,
I’ve left my little queen,
Her languid arms in silver slumber lying:
Ah! through their nestling touch,
Who—who could tell how much
There is for madness—cruel, or complying?

Those faery lids how sleek!
Those lips how moist!—they speak,
In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:
Into my fancy’s ear

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Reincarnation

The clanging fire-bells shook the air,
The maddened crowd roared like the sea
And hurled its human waves ‘gainst me —
Then through the smoke a face gleamed fair
A moment brief — and then the crash
As chariot wheels together dash;
Mad horses rear and plunge and scream —
It all comes back, an old, old dream,
The brutal

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The Female of the Species

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and

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Sigh No More

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blith and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.

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Knight of Gold

I came back home and retired to my couch
Walking on a deviant road
Which seemed exciting but weary like a long voyage
I saw one imp spiteful like an inferno
That suddenly changed into three dragons
Their eyes were frightened and anxious like lion claws

I appeased the land with three white doves
And struck the ground with my staff<br

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My Heart’s In The Highlands

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands

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Rainy Evenings

In rainy evenings,
It has happened,
A number of times;
Looking outside
The window for you,
I myself have become,
A window-pane:
Raindrops outside,
A fog inside,
A hapless mind
Strolling futile,

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Sonnet. On Peace

O PEACE! and dost thou with thy presence bless
The dwellings of this war-surrounded Isle;
Soothing with placid brow our late distress,
Making the triple kingdom brightly smile?
Joyful I hail thy presence; and I hail
The sweet companions that await on thee;
Complete my joy let not my first wish fail,
Let the sweet mountain nymph thy favourite be,<br

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The Thorkild’s Song

There’s no wind along these seas,
Out oars for Stavenger!
Forward all for Stavenger!
So we must wake the white-ash breeze,
Let fall for Stavenger!
A long pull for Stavenger!

Oh, hear the benches creak and strain!
(A long pull for Stavenger!)
She thinks she smells the Northland rain!
(A long pull for Stavenger!)

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Holy Sonnet XIX: Oh, to Vex Me

Oh, to vex me, contraryes meet in one:
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begott
A constant habit; that when I would not
I change in vowes, and in devotione.
As humorous is my contritione
As my prophane Love, and as soone forgott:
As ridlingly distemper’d, cold and hott,
As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none.
I durst not view heaven yesterday;

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Riddles

The black one is squatting-the red one is licking
his bottom.
(Cooking-pot and fire)

Two tiny birds jump over two hundred trees.
(Eyes)

The mourner has stopped weeping.
The pitying friend is still crying.
(Rain and the dripping leaves after rain)

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To One in Paradise

Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise

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Elephant

Elephant, death-bringer!
Elephant, spirit of the bush!
With his one hand he brings two trees to the ground.
If he had two hands, he would tear the sky like an
old rag.
Spirit who eat dog!
Spirit who eat ram!
Spirit who eats palm-fruit, thorns `and all!
With four pestle-legs he flattens the grass,
Where he walks, the grass cannot

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Orpheus

? or John Fletcher.

ORPHEUS with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads and then lay by.

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Faith

I have lined up the threshold,
Of my soul with lamps of hope;
From the blossoms of passion,
I have threaded garlands for Him;
The kohl you see in my eyes,
Is the soot of fire in my heart;
My fidgetiness is the expression,
Of my irrepressible madness,
To be held in His arms forever;
I find no reason why

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