All Poems
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My Love is Young
© Earle Birney
my love is young & i am oldshe'll need a new man soonbut still we wake to clip and talkto laugh as oneto eat and walkbeneath our thirteen-year-old moon
David
© Earle Birney
IDavid and I that summer cut trails on the Survey,All week in the valley for wages, in air that was steepedIn the wail of mosquitoes, but over the sunalive weekendsWe climbed, to get from the ruck of the camp, the surly
Poker, the wrangling, the snoring under the fetidTents, and because we had joy in our lengthening coltishMuscles, and mountains for David were made to see over,Stairs from the valleys and steps to the sun's retreats
Canada: Case History: 1945
© Earle Birney
This is the case of a high-school land,deadset in adolescence;loud treble laughs and sudden fists,bright cheeks, the gangling presence
Bestiary
© Earle Birney
an arkfull she isof undulant creaturesa cinnamon bearcubcurled in a warm ballthinking of honey & berriesnuts roots or evengrass jelly for supper
The Bear on the Delhi Road
© Earle Birney
Unreal tall as a mythby the road the Himalayan bearis beating the brilliant airwith his crooked armsAbout him two men barespindly as locusts leap
Anglosaxon Street
© Earle Birney
Dawndrizzle ended dampness steams fromblotching brick and blank plasterwasteFaded housepatterns hoary and finickyunfold stuttering stick like a phonograph
"When the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam"
© William Cullen Bryant
When the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam,
And the woodlands awaking burst into a hymn,
And the glow of the sky blazes back from the stream,
How the bright ones of heaven in the brightness grow dim.
Glory To God Alone
© William Cowper
Oh loved! but not enough--though dearer far
Than self and its most loved enjoyments are;
None duly loves thee, but who, nobly free
From sensual objects, finds his all in thee.
To Isaac Walton
© John Kenyon
Walton! dear Angler! when, a school-freed boy,
Of varnished rod and silken tackle proud,
Jenny Out Vrom Hwome
© William Barnes
O wild-reävèn west winds; as you do roar on,
The elems do rock an' the poplars do ply,
An' weäve do dreve weäve in the dark-water'd pon',--
Oh! where do ye rise vrom, an' where do ye die?
Presence of Mind
© Piet Hein
You'll conquer the present
suspiciously fast
if you smell of the future
-and stink of the past.
A Lazy Day
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THE trees bend down along the stream,
Where anchored swings my tiny boat.
The Burning Of The Leaves
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The last hollyhock's fallen tower is dust;
All the spices of June are a bitter reek,
All the extravagant riches spent and mean.
All burns! The reddest rose is a ghost;
Sparks whirl up, to expire in the mist: the wild
Fingers of fire are making corruption clean.
On My Songs
© Wilfred Owen
Though unseen Poets, many and many a time,
Have answered me as if they knew my woe,
Sonnet LIX.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written Sept. 1791, during a remarkable thunder
storm, in which the moon was perfectly clear, while
the tempest gathered in various directions near the
earth.
