All Poems
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Village Mystery
© Elinor Wylie
The woman in the pointed hood
And cloak blue-gray like a pigeon's wing,
Whose orchard climbs to the balsam-wood,
Has done a cruel thing.
Venetian Interior
© Elinor Wylie
Allegra, rising from her canopied dreams,
Slides both white feet across the slanted beams
Which lace the peacock jalousies: behold
An idol of fine clay, with feet of gold
Velvet Shoes
© Elinor Wylie
Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet snd slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.
Valentine
© Elinor Wylie
Too high, too high to pluck
My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.
The Tortoise in Eternity
© Elinor Wylie
Within my house of patterned horn
I sleep in such a bed
As men may keep before they're born
And after when they're dead.
The Puritan's Ballad
© Elinor Wylie
My love came up from Barnegat,
The sea was in his eyes;
He trod as softly as a cat
And told me terrible lies.
The Prinkin' Leddie
© Elinor Wylie
The Hielan' lassies are a' for spinnin',
The Lowlan' lassies for prinkin' and pinnin';
My daddie w'u'd chide me, an' so w'u'd my minnie
If I s'u'd bring hame sic a prinkin' leddie.
The Poor Old Cannon
© Elinor Wylie
Upbroke the sun
In red-gold foam;
Thus spoke the gun
At the Soldier's Home:
The Pekingese
© Elinor Wylie
This Pekingese, that makes the sand-grains spin,
Is digging little tunnels to Pekin:
Dream him emerging in a porcelain cave
Where wounded dragons stain a pearly wave.
The Lost Path
© Elinor Wylie
Or will my clamorous knocking shake the trees
With lonely thunder through the stillnesses,
And then lie down--the coldest fear of all--
To nothing, and deliberate silence fall
On the house deep in the silence, and no one come
To door or window, staring blind and dumb?
The Lion and the Lamb
© Elinor Wylie
I saw a Tiger's golden flank,
I saw what food he ate,
By a desert spring he drank;
The Tiger's name was Hate.
The Falcon
© Elinor Wylie
Why should my sleepy heart be taught
To whistle mocking-bird replies?
This is another bird you've caught,
Soft-feathered, with a falcon's eyes.
The Fairy Goldsmith
© Elinor Wylie
Here's a wonderful thing,
A humming-bird's wing
In hammered gold,
And store well chosen
Of snowflakes frozen
In crystal cold.
The Eagle and the Mole
© Elinor Wylie
Avoid the reeking herd,
Shun the polluted flock,
Live like that stoic bird,
The eagle of the rock.
The Crooked Stick
© Elinor Wylie
First Traveller: What's that lying in the dust?
Second Traveller: A crooked stick.
First Traveller: What's it worth, if you can trust to arithmetic?
Second Traveller: Isn't this a riddle?
The Church-Bell
© Elinor Wylie
As I was lying in my bed
I heard the church-bell ring;
Before one solemn word was said
A bird began to sing.
The Child on the Curbstone
© Elinor Wylie
The headlights raced; the moon, death-faced,
Stared down on that golden river.
I saw through the smoke the scarlet cloak
Of a boy who could not shiver.
Sunset on the Spire
© Elinor Wylie
All that I dream
By day or night
Lives in that stream
Of lovely light.
Fame Is A Food That Dead Men Eat
© Henry Austin Dobson
Fame is a food that dead men eat,-
I have no stomach for such meat.
In little light and narrow room,
They eat it in the silent tomb,
With no kind voice of comrade near
To bid the banquet be of cheer.
Spring Pastoral
© Elinor Wylie
Liza, go steep your long white hands
In the cool waters of that spring
Which bubbles up through shiny sands
The colour of a wild-dove's wing.
