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For three years, out of key with his time,He strove to resuscitate the dead artOf poetry; to maintain “the sublime”In the old sense. Wrong from the start— No, hardly, but seeing he had been bornIn a half savage country, out…
How many will come after mesinging as well as I sing, none better;Telling the heart of their truthas I have taught them to tell it;Fruit of my seed,O my unnameable children.Know then that I loved you from afore-time,Clear speakers, naked…
Be in me as the eternal moods of the bleak wind, and not As transient things are— gaiety of flowers.Have me in the strong loneliness …
Because a lady asks me, I would tellOf an affect that comes often and is fellAnd is so overweening; Love by name.E’en its deniers can now hear the truth,I for the nonce to them that know it call,Having no hope…
From Charles D’Orleans For music God! that mad’st her well regard her,How she is so fair and bonny;For…
I even I, am he who knoweth the roadsThrough the sky, and the wind thereof is my body. I have beheld the Lady of Life,I, even I, who fly with the swallows. Green and gray is her raiment,Trailing along the…
Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,Go also to the nerve-racked, go to the enslaved-by-convention,Bear to them my contempt for their oppressors.Go as a great wave of cool water,Bear my contempt of oppressors. Speak against unconscious oppression,Speak against…
Come my cantilations,Let us dump our hatreds into one bunch and be done with them,Hot sun, clear water, fresh wind,Let me be free of pavements,Let me be free of the printers.Let come beautiful peopleWearing raw silk of good colour,Let come…
The gilded phaloi of the crocuses are thrusting at the spring air.Here is there naught of dead godsBut a procession of festival,A procession, Giulio Romano,Fit for your spirit to dwell in.Dione, your nights are upon…
O My songs,Why do you look so eagerly and so curiously intopeople’s faces,Will you find your lost dead among them?