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Category Poem

Ballad: O Where Are You Going?

“O where are you going?” said reader to rider “That valley is fatal where furnaces burn Yonder’s the midden whose odours will madden That gap is the grave where the tall return.” “O do you imagine,” said fearer to farer…

A Summer Night (to Geoffrey Hoyland)

Out on the lawn I lie in bed, Vega conspicuous overhead In the windless nights of June, As congregated leaves complete Their day’s activity; my feet Point to the rising moon. Lucky, this point in time and space Is chosen as…

Amor Loci

I could draw its map by heart, showing its contours, strata and vegetation, name every height, small burn and lonely sheiling, but nameless to me, faceless as heather or grouse, are those who live there, its dead too vague for judgement, tangible only…

Antonio

As all the pigs have turned back into menAnd the sky is auspicious and the seaCalm as a clock, we can all go home again. Yes, it undoubtedly looks as if weCould take life as easily now as talesWrite ever-after:…

Anthem for St. Cecilia’s Day

I In a garden shady this holy lady With reverent cadence and subtle psalm, Like a black swan as death came on Poured forth her song in perfect calm: And by ocean’s margin this innocent virgin Constructed an organ to enlarge her prayer,…

Alonso to Ferdinand

Dear Son, when the warm multitudes cry,Ascend your throne majestically,But keep in mind the waters where fishSee sceptres descending with no wishTo touch them; sit regal and erect,But imagine sands where a crownHas the status of a broken-downSofa or mutilated…

Adrian and Francisco

Good little sunbeams must learn to fly, But it’s madly ungay when the goldfish die. One act is censored, Prospero, My audience is my own; Nor Adrian nor Francisco know The drama that Antonio Plays in his head alone.

Adolescence

By landscape reminded once of his mother’s figure The mountain heights he remembers get bigger and bigger: With the finest of mapping pens he fondly traces All the family names on the familiar places. In a green pasture straying, he…

A Curse

Dark was that day when Diesel Conceived his grim engine that Begot you, vile invention More vicious, more criminal Than the camera even Metallic monstrosity Bale and bane of our Culture Chief woe of our Commonweal How dare the Law…

A Bad Night

In his dream zealous To attain his home, But ensorcelling powers Have contorted space, Odded the way: Instead of a facile Five-minute trot, Far must he hirple, Clumsied by cold, Buffeted often By blouts of hail Or pirries of rain, On…