Poems begining by M
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Milton: The Sky is an Immortal Tent Built by the Sons of Los
© William Blake
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los:
And every space that a man views around his dwelling-place
Standing on his own roof or in his garden on a mount
Of twenty-five cubits in height, such space is his universe:
Milton: But in the Wine-presses the Human Grapes Sing not nor Dance
© William Blake
They dance around the dying and they drink the howl and groan,
They catch the shrieks in cups of gold, they hand them to one another:
These are the sports of love, and these the sweet delights of amorous play,
Tears of the grape, the death sweat of the cluster, the last sigh
Of the mild youth who listens to the luring songs of Luvah.
My Spectre Around Me
© William Blake
My spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way.
My emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.
Milton: And did those feet in ancient time
© William Blake
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
Mad Song
© William Blake
The wild winds weep
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs infold:
Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau
© William Blake
The Atoms of Democritus
And Newton's Particles of Light
Are sands upon the Red Sea shore,
Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.
My Pretty Rose Tree
© William Blake
A flower was offered to me;
Such a flower as May never bore.
But I said I've a Pretty Rose-tree.
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
© Delmore Schwartz
I looked toward the movie, the common dream,
The he and she in close-ups, nearer than life,
And I accepted such things as they seem,
Marksman Sam
© Marriott Edgar
When Sam Small joined the regiment,
'E were no' but a raw recruit,
And they marched 'im away one wint'ry day,
'Is musket course to shoot.
Magna Carta
© Marriott Edgar
I'll tell of the Magna Charter
As were signed at the Barons' command
On Runningmead Island in t' middle of t' Thames
By King John, as were known as "Lack Land."
My Papa's Waltz
© Theodore Roethke
The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
My Mother Would Be a Falconress
© Robert Duncan
My mother would be a falconress,
And I, her gay falcon treading her wrist,
would fly to bring back
from the blue of the sky to her, bleeding, a prize,
where I dream in my little hood with many bells
jangling when I'd turn my head.
My Friends
© William Stanley Merwin
My friends with names like gloves set out
Bare handed as they have lived
And nobody knows them
It is they that lay the wreaths at the milestones it is their
Cups that are found at the wells
And are then chained up
Modern Love XXXVIII: Give to Imagination
© George Meredith
Give to imagination some pure light
In human form to fix it, or you shame
The devils with that hideous human game:
Imagination urging appetite!
Modern Love XXXVII: Along the Garden Terrace
© George Meredith
Along the garden terrace, under which
A purple valley (lighted at its edge
By smoky torch-flame on the long cloud-ledge
Whereunder dropped the chariot), glimmers rich,
Modern Love XXXVI: My Lady unto Madam
© George Meredith
My Lady unto Madam makes her bow.
The charm of women is, that even while
You're probed by them for tears, you yet may smile,
Nay, laugh outright, as I have done just now.
Modern Love XXXV: It Is No Vulgar Nature
© George Meredith
It is no vulgar nature I have wived.
Secretive, sensitive, she takes a wound
Deep to her soul, as if the sense had swooned,
And not a thought of vengeance had survived.
Modern Love XXXIX: She Yields
© George Meredith
She yields: my Lady in her noblest mood
Has yielded: she, my golden-crownèd rose!
The bride of every sense! more sweet than those
Who breathe the violet breath of maidenhood.
Modern Love XXXIII: In Paris, at the Louvre
© George Meredith
'In Paris, at the Louvre, there have I seen
The sumptuously-feathered angel pierce
Prone Lucifer, descending. Looked he fierce,
Showing the fight a fair one? Too serene!
