I Beseech Thee, Lord, For Naught! (Patience Worth Poems)
I beseech Thee, Lord, for naught!But cry aloud unto the sunlightWho bathes the earth in gold,And boldly breaketh into cranniesYet ...
I beseech Thee, Lord, for naught!But cry aloud unto the sunlightWho bathes the earth in gold,And boldly breaketh into cranniesYet ...
Ah, could I love thee, thou,The loveless o' the earth!And pry aneath the cranniesYet untouched by mortal hand,To send therein ...
Aye, but she?Your other sister and my other soulGrave Silence, lovelierThan the three loveliest maidens, what of her?Clio, not you,Not ...
Long time beside the squatter's gate A great grey Box-Tree, early, late, Or shine or rain, in silence there Had ...
What would'st thou have for easement after grief, When the rude world hath used thee with despite, And care sits at thine elbow day and night, Filching thy pleasures like a subtle thief? To me, when life besets me in such wise, 'Tis sweetest to break forth, to drop the chain, And grasp the freedom of this pleasant earth, To roam in idleness and sober mirth, Through summer airs and summer lands, and drain The comfort of wide fields unto tired eyes. By hills and waters, farms and solitudes, To wander by the day with wilful feet; Through fielded valleys wide with yellowing wheat; Along gray roads that run between deep woods, Murmurous and cool; through hallowed slopes of pine, Where the long daylight dreams, unpierced, unstirred, And only the rich-throated thrush is heard; By lonely forest brooks that froth and shine In bouldered crannies buried in the hills; By broken beeches tangled with wild vine, And long-strewn rivers murmurous with mills. In upland pastures, sown with gold, and sweet With the keen perfume of the ripening grass, Where wings of birds and filmy shadows pass, Spread thick as stars with shining marguerite: To haunt old fences overgrown with brier, Muffled in vines, and hawthorns, and wild cherries, Rank poisonous ivies, red-bunched elder-berries, And pièd blossoms to the heart's desire, Gray mullein towering into yellow bloom, Pink-tasseled milkweed, breathing dense perfume, And swarthy vervain, tipped with violet fire. To hear at eve the bleating of far flocks, The mud-hen's whistle from the marsh at morn; To skirt with deafened ears and brain o'erborne Some foam-filled rapid charging down its rocks With iron roar of waters; far away Across wide-reeded meres, pensive with noon, To hear the querulous outcry of the loon; To lie among deep rocks, and watch all day On liquid heights the snowy clouds melt by; Or hear from wood-capped mountain-brows the jay Pierce the bright morning with his jibing cry. To feast on summer sounds; the jolted wains, The thresher humming from the farm near by, The prattling cricket's intermittent cry, The locust's rattle from the sultry lanes; Or in the shadow of some oaken spray, To watch, as through a mist of light and dreams, The far-off hayfields, where the dusty teams Drive round and round the lessening squares of hay, And hear upon the wind, now loud, now low, With drowsy cadence half a summer's day, The clatter of the reapers come and go. Far violet hills, horizons filmed with showers, The murmur of cool streams, the forest's gloom, The voices of the breathing grass, the hum Of ancient gardens overbanked with flowers: Thus, with a smile as golden as the dawn, And cool fair fingers radiantly divine, The mighty mother brings us in her hand, For all tired eyes and foreheads pinched and wan, Her restful cup, her beaker of bright wine: Drink, and be filled, and ye shall understand!(Archibald Lampman)
Friend whom I never saw, yet dearest friend, Be with me travelling on the byeway now ...
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff, Fossick in ...
THE palms are yellowing in the Autumn heat, I hate the ripple of that tideless sea, But worse the line ...
Hark, the sound of it drawing nearer,Clink of hobble and brazen bell;Mark the passage of stalwart shearer,Bidding Monaro soil farewell.Where ...
The spring-it had simply been you,And so, to a certain extent,The summer; but autumn-this scandalous blueOf wallpaper? Rubbish and felt?They ...
In dire Contest the Rats and Weazles met, And Foot to Foot, and Point to Point was set: An ancient ...
Night is the true democracy. When dayLike some great monarch with his train has passed.In regal pomp and splendor to ...
Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in ...
So you're writing for a paper? Well, it's nothing very new To be writing yards of drivel for a tidy ...
The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer, A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage, A whiplash swimmer, a fish ...
SHE stood against the kitchen sink, and looked Over the sink out through a dusty window At weeds the water ...
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale, Whom Arthur and his knighthood called ...
Three hours ago he blundered up the trench, Sliding and poising, groping with his boots; Sometimes he tripped and lurched ...
Three hours ago he blundered up the trench, Sliding and poising, groping with his boots; Sometimes he tripped and lurched ...
Overnight, very Whitely, discreetly, Very quietly Our toes, our noses Take hold on the loam, Acquire the air. Nobody sees ...
Aye, but she? Your other sister and my other soul Grave Silence, lovelier Than the three loveliest maidens, what of ...
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