Work poems
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Saturday At The Border
© Hayden Carruth
Here I am writing my first villanelle
At seventy-two, and feeling old and tired--
"Hey, Pops, why dontcha give us the old death knell?"--
Cultural Evolution
© Carolyn Kizer
When from his cave, young Mao in his youthful mind
A work to renew old China first designed,
Then he alone interpreted the law,
and from tradtional fountains scorned to draw:
But when to examine every part he came,
Marx and Confucius turned out much the same.
The Little Cripple's Complaint
© Ann Taylor
I'm a helpless cripple child,
Gentle Christians, pity me;
Once, in rosy health I smiled,
Blithe and gay as you can be,
And upon the village green
First in every sport was seen.
The Chatterbox
© Ann Taylor
From morning till night it was Lucy's delight
To chatter and talk without stopping:
There was not a day but she rattled away,
Like water for ever a-dropping.
Meddlesome Matty
© Ann Taylor
One ugly trick has often spoil'd
The sweetest and the best;
Matilda, though a pleasant child,
One ugly trick possess'd,
Which, like a cloud before the skies,
Hid all her better qualities.
Jane and Eliza
© Ann Taylor
There were two little girls, neither handsome nor plain;
One's name was Eliza, the other's was Jane:
They were both of one height, as I've heard people say,
They were both of one age, I believe, to a day.
St. Winefred's Well
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
ACT I. SC. IEnter Teryth from riding, Winefred following.T. WHAT is it, Gwen, my girl? why do you hover and haunt me? W. You came by Caerwys, sir?
T. I came by Caerwys.
W. There
Some messenger there might have met you from my uncle.
On the Portrait of Two Beautiful Young People
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
O I admire and sorrow! The hearts eye grieves
Discovering you, dark tramplers, tyrant years.
A juice rides rich through bluebells, in vine leaves,
And beautys dearest veriest vein is tears.
The Times Are Nightfall
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Or what is else? There is your world within.
There rid the dragons, root out there the sin.
Your will is law in that small commonweal
To R. B.
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
The fine delight that fathers thought; the strong
Spur, live and lancing like the blowpipe flame,
Breathes once and, quenchèd faster than it came,
Leaves yet the mind a mother of immortal song.
The Bugler's First Communion
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
A buglar boy from barrack (it is over the hill
There)boy bugler, born, he tells me, of Irish
Mother to an English sire (he
Shares their best gifts surely, fall how things will),
Brothers
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
How lovely the elder brother's
Life all laced in the other's,
Lóve-laced!what once I well
Witnessed; so fortune fell.
Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord, If I Contend
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum:
verumtamen justa loquar ad te:
Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c.
The Blessed Virgin Compared To The Air We Breathe
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Wild air, world-mothering air,
Nestling me everywhere,
That each eyelash or hair
Girdles; goes home betwixt
Peace
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut,
Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs?
When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I'll not play hypocrite
To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but
That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows
Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?
Dtatue And The Bust, The
© Robert Browning
There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well,
And a statue watches it from the square,
And this story of both do our townsmen tell.
Over the Sea our Galleys Went
© Robert Browning
Over the sea our galleys went,
With cleaving prows in order brave,
To a speeding wind and a bounding wave,
An Epistle Containing the Strange Medical Experience of Kar
© Robert Browning
Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs,
The not-incurious in God's handiwork
(This man's-flesh he hath admirably made,
Blown like a bubble, kneaded like a paste,
The Statue and the Bust
© Robert Browning
There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well,
And a statue watches it from the square,
And this story of both do our townsmen tell.
Pan and Luna
© Robert Browning
Si credere dignum est.--Virgil, Georgics, III, 390
Oh, worthy of belief I hold it was,
Virgil, your legend in those strange three lines!
No question, that adventure came to pass
