Category Poets

The tired agnostic longs for prayerMore than the blessed can ever do:Between the chinks in his despair,From out his forest he peeps throughUpon a clearing sunned so brightHe cups his eyeballs from its light. He for himself who would decideWhat…

For warmth alone, for shelter onlyFrom the cold anger of the eyeless wind,That knows my whereabouts, and mainlyTo be at your door when I go downIs abroad at all tonight in town,I left my phrase in air, and sinned,Laying my…

Amorphous is the mind; its quality Is in its fibre, not its form;If it desire to fly it puts on wings, Awkwardly, not like a birdAt first (though later); the rustle of a thing half-heardCan twist it as iron at…

When the tree-sparrows with no sound through the pearl-pale airOf dawn, down the apple-branches, stair by stair, With utmost, unforgettable, elegance and grace Descended to the bare ground (never bareOf small strewn seedsFor forced-down flyers at this treacherous time of…

Who hurt you so,My dear?Who, long agoWhen you were very young,Did, said, became, was … something that you did not knowBeauty could ever do, say, be, become?—So that your brown eyes filledWith tears they never, not to this day, have…

Calm was Half-Moon Bay; we lay at anchor there Just off Tortola; when the hurricane,Leaving its charted path, leapt full upon us,And we were bruised and sobbing from the blows of the rainBefore we knew by what we were attacked…

IPut it down! I say; put it down,—here, give it to me, I know what is in it, you Irish believer in fairies! Here, let me smash itOnce and for all,Against the corner of the wall!Do we need philtres?Look at…

By the lake at Armenonville in the Bois de BoulogneSmall begonias had been set in the embankment, both pink and red;With polished leaf and brittle, juicy stem;They covered the embankment; there were wagon-loads of them,Charming and neat, gay colours in…

How innocent we lie amongThe righteous!—Lord, how sweet we smell,Doing this wicked thing, this love,Bought up by bishops!—doing well,With all our leisure, all our pride,What’s illy done and done in hasteBy licensed folk on every side,Spitting out fruit before they…

Here in a rocky cup of earthThe simple acorn brought to birthWhat has in ages grown to beA very oak, a mighty tree.The granite of the rock is splitAnd crumbled by the girth of it. Incautious was the rock to…