Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems (178 Poems)


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    Mr. Flood’s Party (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

       Old Eben Flood, climbing alone one night   Over the hill between the town below   And the forsaken upland hermitage   That held as much as he should ever know   On earth again of home, paused warily.   The road was his with not a native near;   And Eben, having leisure, said aloud,   For no man else in Tilbury Town to hear:   “Well, Mr. Flood, we have the harvest moon  Again, and we may not have many more;  The bird is on the wing, the poet says,  And you and I have said it here before.  Drink to the bird.” He raised up to the light  The jug that he had gone so far to fill,  And answered huskily: “Well, Mr. Flood,  Since you propose it, I believe I will.”   Alone, as if enduring to the end  A valiant armor of scarred hopes outworn,  He stood there in the middle of the road  Like Roland’s ghost winding a silent horn.  Below him, in the town among the trees,  Where friends of other days had honored him,  A phantom salutation of the dead  Rang thinly till old Eben’s eyes were dim.   Then, as a mother lays her sleeping child  Down tenderly, fearing it may awake,  He set the jug down slowly at his feet  With trembling care, knowing that most things break;  And only when assured that on firm earth  It stood, as the uncertain lives of men  Assuredly did not, he paced away,  And with his hand extended paused again:   “Well, Mr. Flood, we have not met like this  In a long time; and many a change has come  To both of us, I fear, since last it was  We had a drop together. Welcome home!”  Convivially returning with himself,  Again he raised the jug up to the light;  And with an acquiescent quaver said:  “Well, Mr. Flood, if you insist, I might.   “Only a very little, Mr. Flood —  For auld lang syne. No more, sir; that will do.”  So, for the time, apparently it did,  And Eben evidently thought so too;  For soon amid the silver loneliness  Of night he lifted up his voice and sang,  Secure, with only two moons listening,  Until the whole harmonious landscape rang —   “For auld lang syne.” The weary throat gave out,  The last word wavered; and the song being done,  He raised again the jug regretfully  And shook his head, and was again alone.  There was not much that was ahead of him,  And there was nothing in the town below —  Where strangers would have shut the many doors  That many friends had opened long ago. (Edwin Arlington Robinson)



    Sonnet 32: The Children of the Night (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Oh for a poet-for a beacon bright  To rift this changless glimmer of dead gray;  To spirit back the Muses, long astray,  And flush Parnassus with a newer light;  To put these little sonnet-men to flightWho fashion, in a shrewd … Continue reading



    Modernities (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Small knowledge have we that by knowledge met May not some day be quaint as any told In almagest or chronicle of old, Whereat we smile because we are as yet The last-though not the last who may forget What … Continue reading



    The Return of Morgan and Fingal (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    And there we were together again- Together again, we three: Morgan, Fingal, fiddle, and all, They had come for the night with me. The spirit of joy was in Morgan’s wrist, There were songs in Fingal’s throat; And secure outside, … Continue reading



    Credo (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    I cannot find my way: there is no star In all the shrouded heavens anywhere; And there is not a whisper in the air Of any living voice but one so far That I can hear it only as a … Continue reading



    The Unforgiven (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    When he, who is the unforgiven, Beheld her first, he found her fair: No promise ever dreamt in heaven Could have lured him anywhere That would have nbeen away from there; And all his wits had lightly striven, Foiled with … Continue reading



    The Revealer (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    (ROOSEVELT) He turned aside to see the carcase of the lion: and behold, there was a swarm of bees and honey in the carcase of the lion . And the men of the city said unto him, What is sweeter … Continue reading



    The Gift of God (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Blessed with a joy that only she Of all alive shall ever know, She wears a proud humility For what it was that willed it so – That her degree should be so great Among the favoured of the Lord … Continue reading



    Theophilus (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    By what serene malevolence of names Had you the gift of yours, Theophilus? Not even a smeared young Cyclops at his games Would have you long,-and you are one of us. Told of your deeds I shudder for your dream … Continue reading



    Luke Havergal (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal, — There where the vines cling crimson on the wall, — And in the twilight wait for what will come. The wind will moan, the leaves will whisper some — Whisper of her, … Continue reading




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