All Poems
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My Muse
© Stevie Smith
My Muse sits forelornShe wishes she had not been bornShe sits in the coldNo word she says is ever told.
Empty Bed Blues
© Smith Bessie
I woke up this mornin'with an awful achin' head,I woke up this mornin'with an awful achin' head,My new man left me,Just a room and an empty bed.
To Anthea
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
When I no more shall feel the sun, Nor taste the salt brine on my lips; When one to me are stinging whipsAnd rose leaves falling one by one;
Souvenirs du Temps Bien Perdu
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Blouse and bloomers, blouse and bloomers, dewy warm against your skin.Pretty breasts and little buttocks, oh! the Joycean sweets of sin,As I fumble at the button and elastics yours are in!
Resurrection of Arp
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
On the third day rose Arpout of the black sleeve of the tomb;he could see like a cat in the dark,but the light left him dumb.
The Lonely Land
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Cedar and jagged firuplift sharp barbsagainst the grayand clouded-piled sky;and in the bayblown spume and windriftand thin, bitter spraysnapat the whirling sky;and the pine treeslean one way.
KINDNESS TO ANIMALS
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Be kind to animals, my child:Don't make the gentle ringworm wild.
Humouresque
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
HeHad alwaysBeen a lucky one:The girl he lovedRefused him, so he alwaysKept her fresh-eyed beautySafe from ravagings of Time,And lived with her in one closeCorner of his brain, and kissed her lips,And pale white hands, and dreamy hair
Good Friday
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
This day upon the bitter treeDied one who had he willedCould have dried up the wide sea And the wind stilled,
For Healing
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Spread your long armsTo the salt stinging wave:Let its breathless envelopingCleanliness laveArms, breast, shoulders,Sinews and thighsFrom the yellow of love,Her immoderate eyes,The ache of her fingers,The whips of her hair,And the bruise where her mouthMoved here and there
Epitaph
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Weep not on this quiet stone,I, embedded hereWhere sturdy roots divide the boneAnd tendrils split a hair,Bespeak you comfort of the grassThat is embodied me,Which as I am, not as I was,Would choose to be
Chinoiserie
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
It is not you, no, madam, whom I love,Nor you either, Juliet, nor you,Ophelia, nor Beatrice, nor that dove,Fair-haired Laura with the big eyes; No.
Ballade un peu banale
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
The bellow of good Master Bull Astoundeth gentil CowThat standeth in the meadow cool Where cuckoo singeth now.
The Archer
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Bend back thy bow, O Archer, till the stringIs level with thine ear, thy body taut,Its nature art, thyself thy statue wroughtOf marble blood, thy weapon the poised wingOf coiled and aquiline Fate
If I Should Die To-night
© Arabella Eugenia Smith
If I should die to-night,My friends would look upon my quiet faceBefore they laid it in its resting-place,And deem that death had left it almost fair;And, laying snow-white flowers against my hair,Would smooth it down with tearful tenderness,And fold my hands with lingering caress, --Poor hands, so empty and so cold to-night!
If I should die to-night,My friends would call to mind with loving thoughtSome kindly deed the icy hands had wrought,Some gentle word the frozen lips had said,Errands on which the willing feet had sped;The memory of my selfishness and pride,My hasty words would all be put aside,And so I should be loved and mourned to-night
The Sniper
© Skeyhill Tom
I've seen the champions of the land, Shootin' out at Bisley,The Canadian back-woodsman Slay the roarin' Grizzly;I've seen the Monte Carlo sport Baggin' pigeons by the score,The crack shot on the stage, too, With his thousand tricks or more
Shrapnel
© Skeyhill Tom
I was sittin' in me dug-out, An' was feelin' dinkum good,Chewin' Queensland bully beef, An' biscuits 'ard as wood
My Little Wet Home In the Trench
© Skeyhill Tom
I've a little wet home in the trench,Which the rain-storms continually drench; Blue sky overhead, Mud and clay for a bed,And a stone that we use for a bench
