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

    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

    Tact (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Observant of the way she told So much of what was true, No vanity could long withhold Regard that was her due: She spared him the familiar guide, So easily achieved, That only made a man to smile And left … Continue reading

    How Annandale Went Out (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    “They called it Annandale-and I was there To flourish, to find words, and to attend: Liar, physician, hypocrite, and friend, I watched him; and the sight was not so fair As one or two that I have seen elsewhere: An … Continue reading

    Exit (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    For what we owe to other days, Before we poisoned him with praise, May we who shrank to find him weak Remember that he cannot speak. For envy that we may recall, And for our faith before the fall, May … 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

    Bewick Finzer (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Time was when his half million drew The breath of six per cent; But soon the worm of what-was-not Fed hard on his content; And something crumbled in his brain When his half million went. Time passed, and filled along … Continue reading

    The Whip (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    The doubt you fought so long The cynic net you cast, The tyranny, the wrong, The ruin, they are past; And here you are at last, Your blood no longer vexed. The coffin has you fast, The clod will have … Continue reading

    The Klondike (Edwin Arlington Robinson Poems)

    Never mind the day we left, or the day the women clung to us; All we need now is the last way they looked at us. Never mind the twelve men there amid the cheering- Twelve men or one man, … Continue reading

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