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



    The Tree In Pamela’s Garden (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Pamela was too gentle to deceive Her roses. “Let the men stay where they are,” She said, “and if Apollo’s avatar Be one of them, I shall not have to grieve.” And so she made all Tilbury Town believe She … Continue reading



    Bon Voyage (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Child of a line accurst And old as Troy, Bringer of best and worst In wild alloy- Light, like a linnet first, He sang for joy. Thrall to the gilded ease Of every day, Mocker of all degrees And always … Continue reading



    An Island (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Take it away, and swallow it yourself. Ha! Look you, there’s a rat. Last night there were a dozen on that shelf, And two of them were living in my hat. Look! Now he goes, but he’ll come back- Ha? … Continue reading



    London Bridge (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    “Do I hear them? Yes, I hear the children singing-and what of it? Have you come with eyes afire to find me now and ask me that? If I were not their father and if you were not their mother, … Continue reading



    As a World Would Have It (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Shall I never make him look at me again? I look at him, I look my life at him, I tell him all I know the way to tell, But there he stays the same. Shall I never make him … Continue reading



    Momus (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    “Where’s the need of singing now?”– Smooth your brow, Momus, and be reconciled. For king Kronos is a child– Child and father, Or god rather, And all gods are wild. “Who reads Byron any more?”– Shut the door Momus, for … Continue reading



    Leonora (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    They have made for Leonora this low dwelling in the ground, And with cedar they have woven the four walls round. Like a little dryad hiding she’ll be wrapped all in green, Better kept and longer valued than by ways … Continue reading



    For Ariva (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    You Eyes, you large and all-inquiring Eyes. That look so dubiously into me, And are not satisfied with what you see, Tell me the worst and let us have no lies: Tell me the meaning of your scrutinies. And of … Continue reading




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