Men poems

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131

Blood Road

© Katharine Lee Bates

The Old Year groaned as he trudged away,
His guilty shadow black on the snow,
And the heart of the glad New Year turned grey
At the road Time bade him go.

And wear thou thisshe solemn said,
And bound the holly round my head:
The polishd leaves and berries red
Did rustling play;
And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away. [To Mrs. Stewart of Stair Burns presented a manuscript copy of the Vision. That copy embraces about twenty stanzas at the end of Duan First, which he cancelled when he came to print the price in his Kilmarnock volume. Seven of these he restored in printing his second edition, as noted on p. 174. The following are the verses which he left unpublished.]

548. The Dean of Faculty: A new Ballad

© Robert Burns

DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw,
That Scot to Scot did carry;
And dire the discord Langside saw
For beauteous, hapless Mary:

"Within Their Silent Perfect Glass"

© Adam Mickiewicz

Within their silent perfect glass
The mirror waters, vast and clear,
Reflect the silhouette of rocks,
Dark faces brooding on the shore.

280. The Kirk of Scotlands Alarm: A Ballad

© Robert Burns

ORTHODOX! orthodox, who believe in John Knox,
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience:
A heretic blast has been blown in the West,
That what is no sense must be nonsense,
Orthodox! That what is no sense must be nonsense.

141. Tam Samsons Elegy

© Robert Burns

THE EPITAPHTam Samsons weel-worn clay here lies
Ye canting zealots, spare him!
If honest worth in Heaven rise,
Yell mend or ye win near him.

228. To Alex. Cunningham, Esq., Writer, Edinburgh

© Robert Burns

MY godlike friendnay, do not stare,
You think the phrase is odd-like;
But God is love, the saints declare,
Then surely thou art god-like.

133. The Brigs of Ayr

© Robert Burns

THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
Learning his tuneful trade from evry bough;
The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush,
Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush;

Der Liebende

© Joseph Freiherr Von Eichendorff

Der Liebende steht träge auf,
Zieht ein Herr-Jemine-Gesicht
Und wünscht, er wäre tot.
Der Morgen tut sich prächtig auf.

The Crown Of Life

© Edith Nesbit

THE days, the doubts, the dreams of pain
Are over, not to come again,
And from the menace of the night
Has dawned the day-star of delight:
My baby lies against me pressed--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed!

My Mother’s Pillow by Cecilia Woloch : American Life in Poetry #228 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laur

© Ted Kooser

I don’t often mention literary forms, but of this lovely poem by Cecilia Woloch I want to suggest that the form, a villanelle, which uses a pattern of repetition, adds to the enchantment I feel in reading it. It has a kind of layering, like memory itself. Woloch lives and teaches in southern California.

My Mother’s Pillow

386. The Rights of WomenSpoken by Miss Fontenelle

© Robert Burns

Now, thank our stars! those Gothic times are fled;
Now, well-bred menand you are all well-bred
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.

25. My Father was a Farmer: A Ballad

© Robert Burns

MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;
He bade me act a manly part, though I had neer a farthing, O;
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.

59. Death and Dr. Hornbook

© Robert Burns

But just as he began to tell,
The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell
Some wee short hour ayont the twal,
Which raisd us baith:
I took the way that pleasd mysel,
And sae did Death.

Life Is A Dream - Act II

CLOTALDO. Reasons fail me not to show
That the experiment may not answer;
But there is no remedy now,
For a sign from the apartment
Tells me that he hath awoken
And even hitherward advances.