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Politics poems

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Ox Tamer, The.

© Walt Whitman

IN a faraway northern county, in the placid, pastoral region,
Lives my farmer friend, the theme of my recitative, a famous Tamer of Oxen:
There they bring him the three-year-olds and the four-year-olds, to break them;
He will take the wildest steer in the world, and break him and tame him;

Now List to my Morning’s Romanza.

© Walt Whitman

1
NOW list to my morning’s romanza—I tell the signs of the Answerer;
To the cities and farms I sing, as they spread in the sunshine before me.

Carol of Words.

© Walt Whitman

1
EARTH, round, rolling, compact—suns, moons, animals—all these are words to be
said;
Watery, vegetable, sauroid advances—beings, premonitions, lispings of the future,

Says.

© Walt Whitman

1
I SAY whatever tastes sweet to the most perfect person, that is finally right.
2
I say nourish a great intellect, a great brain;

I was Looking a Long While.

© Walt Whitman

I WAS looking a long while for a clue to the history of the past for myself, and for these
chants—and now I have found it;
It is not in those paged fables in the libraries, (them I neither accept nor reject;)
It is no more in the legends than in all else;

To a President.

© Walt Whitman

ALL you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages,
You have not learn’d of Nature—of the politics of Nature, you have not
learn’d
the

Quicksand Years.

© Walt Whitman

QUICKSAND years that whirl me I know not whither,
Your schemes, politics, fail—lines give way—substances mock and elude me;
Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess’d Soul, eludes not;
One’s-self must never give way—that is the final substance—that out of all

Indications, The.

© Walt Whitman

THE indications, and tally of time;
Perfect sanity shows the master among philosophs;
Time, always without flaw, indicates itself in parts;
What always indicates the poet, is the crowd of the pleasant company of singers, and their

As I Walk These Broad, Majestic Days.

© Walt Whitman

AS I walk these broad, majestic days of peace,
(For the war, the struggle of blood finish’d, wherein, O terrific Ideal!
Against vast odds, having gloriously won,
Now thou stridest on—yet perhaps in time toward denser wars,

As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontario’s Shores.

© Walt Whitman

1
AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario’s shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return’d, and the dead that return no
more,

To a Historian.

© Walt Whitman

YOU who celebrate bygones!
Who have explored the outward, the surfaces of the races—the life that has
exhibited itself;
Who have treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates, rulers and

So Long.

© Walt Whitman

1
TO conclude—I announce what comes after me;
I announce mightier offspring, orators, days, and then, for the present, depart.

Plutonian Ode

© Allen Ginsberg

IWhat new element before us unborn in nature? Is there
a new thing under the Sun?
At last inquisitive Whitman a modern epic, detonative,
Scientific theme

The Lamentation Of The Old Pensioner

© William Butler Yeats

Although I shelter from the rain
Under a broken tree,
My chair was nearest to the fire
In every company
That talked of love or politics,
Ere Time transfigured me.

In Memory Of Eva Gore-Booth And Con Markiewicz

© William Butler Yeats

The light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.

Politics

© William Butler Yeats

'In our time the destiny of man prevents its meanings
in political terms.' -- Thomas Mann.
How can I, that girl standing there,
My attention fix

Ellen West

© Frank Bidart

I love sweets,—
  heaven
would be dying on a bed of vanilla ice cream ...
But my true self 

Crepuscule with Muriel

© Marilyn Hacker

Instead of a cup of tea, instead of a milk-

silk whelk of a cup, of a cup of nearly six

The City (1925)

© Carl Rakosi

Under this Luxemburg of heaven, 
upright capstan,
  small eagles. . . .
is the port of N.Y. . . . . 

Kaddish

© Allen Ginsberg

  Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder.
  In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept.
  Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore
  Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity—
  Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death
  This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms!

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