Poems begining by C
/ page 46 of 99 /
Chosen
© William Butler Yeats
The lot of love is chosen. I learnt that much
Struggling for an image on the track
Of the whirling Zodiac.
Scarce did he my body touch,
Consolation
© William Butler Yeats
O but there is wisdom
In what the sages said;
But stretch that body for a while
And lay down that head
Till I have told the sages
Where man is comforted.
Come Gather Round Me, Parnellites
© William Butler Yeats
Come gather round me, Parnellites,
And praise our chosen man;
Stand upright on your legs awhile,
Stand upright while you can,
Colonus' Praise
© William Butler Yeats
(From Oedipus at Colonus)Chorus. Come praise Colonus' horses, and come praise
The wine-dark of the wood's intricacies,
The nightingale that deafens daylight there,
If daylight ever visit where,
Cuchulan's Fight With The Sea
© William Butler Yeats
A man came slowly from the setting sun,
To Emer, raddling raiment in her dun,
And said, 'I am that swineherd whom you bid
Go watch the road between the wood and tide,
But now I have no need to watch it more.'
Crazy Jane On The Mountain
© William Butler Yeats
I am tired of cursing the Bishop,
(Said Crazy Jane)
Nine books or nine hats
Would not make him a man.
Crazy Jane Reproved
© William Butler Yeats
I care not what the sailors say:
All those dreadful thunder-stones,
All that storm that blots the day
Can but show that Heaven yawns;
Cuchulain Comforted
© William Butler Yeats
A man that had six mortal wounds, a man
Violent and famous, strode among the dead;
Eyes stared out of the branches and were gone.
Convalescent
© Dorothy Parker
How shall I wail, that wasn't meant for weeping?
Love has run and left me, oh, what then?
Dream, then, I must, who never can be sleeping;
What if I should meet Love, once again?
Condolence
© Dorothy Parker
And when I smiled, they told me I was brave,
And they rejoiced that I was comforted,
And left to tell of all the help they gave.
But I had smiled to think how you, the dead,
So curiously preoccupied and grave,
Would laugh, could you have heard the things they said.
Coda
© Dorothy Parker
There's little in taking or giving,
There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.
Charles Dickens
© Dorothy Parker
Who call him spurious and shoddy
Shall do it o'er my lifeless body.
I heartily invite such birds
To come outside and say those words!
Comete
© Les Murray
Uphill in Melbourne on a beautiful day
a woman is walking ahead of her hair.
Like teak oiled soft to fracture and sway
it hung to her heels and seconded her
Cockspur Bush
© Les Murray
I am lived. I am died.
I was two-leafed three times, and grazed,
but then I was stemmed and multiplied,
sharp-thorned and caned, nested and raised,
Conviction (ii)
© Stevie Smith
I walked abroad in Easter Park,
I heard the wild dog's distant bark,
I knew my Lord was risen again, -
Wild dog, wild dog, you bark in vain.
Conviction (iii)
© Stevie Smith
The shadow was so black,
I thought it was a cat,
But once in to it
I knew it
No more black
Than a shadow's back.
Conviction (i)
© Stevie Smith
Christ died for God and me
Upon the crucifixion tree
For God a spoken Word
For me a Sword
Catbird
© Mary Oliver
He picks his pond, and the soft thicket of his world.
He bids his lady come, and she does,
flirting with her tail.
He begins early, and makes up his song as he goes.
Clapp's Pond
© Mary Oliver
Three miles through the woods
Clapp's Pond sprawls stone gray
among oaks and pines,
the late winter fields
