Poetry
For Cecilia It’s a party like any other We’ve ever been wallpapered and rugged Into — the food and drink disarrayed, the bother And mess left behind in the hosts’ kitchen For tomorrow and tomorrow …
The Lights on Rt. 10 Highway left behind, along the town’s rutted arm. Off ahead lights are piled, like painted covers of Long Island. Lens-flared traffic, hiking the rain home. I stand out in the …
To Mrs. —. WHERE are those hours, on rosy pinions borne, Which brought to every guiltless with success? When Pleasure gladden’d each returning morn, And every evening clos’d in calms of peace. How smil’d each …
To Lucasta, Going to the Wars Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now …
December In spangle of frost, and stars of snow, Unto his end the Year doth wend; And sad for some the days did go, And glad for some were beginning and end; But sad or …
St. Andrew’s Eve The last night of November All dreaming as I lay, I saw a fisher toiling In stormy seas and grey, — A glimmering seine-net casting In foam as white as wool . …
Ghost my romances are packed in an empty box spaceless slid clean across cold tile making faces that mimic art tricked into a large heart only bricks and buds to house in this smoky dining …
I stood in the flag-decked cheering crowd Where all but I were gay, And gazing on their extasy, My heart shrank in dismay. For theirs was the joy of the “little folk” The cruel glee …
I live, but not in myself, and I have such hope that I die because I do not die. I no longer live within myself and I cannot live without God, for having neither him …
The Three Witches Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and …
Autumn A touch of cold in the Autumn night— I walked abroad, And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge Like a red-faced farmer. I did not stop to speak, but nodded, And round …
A Brook in the City The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square With the new city street it has to wear A number in. But what about the brook That held the house as in …
October: pilot waves to the brakeman... chilly sundown October... jelly jar upside-down by the lettuce Solstice: spinning sun moves on from the model trains One stone on the high bridge--I ponder... pocket it? Forlorn... the …
Remorse For Any Death Free of memory and of hope, limitless, abstract, almost future, the dead man is not a dead man: he is death. Like the God of the mystics, of Whom anything that …
Autumn I love to see, when leaves depart, The clear anatomy arrive, Winter, the paragon of art, That kills all forms of life and feeling Save what is pure and will survive. Already now the …
Call It a Good Marriage Call it a good marriage — For no one ever questioned Her warmth, his masculinity, Their interlocking views; Except one stray graphologist Who frowned in speculation At her h’s and …