Poetry
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 …
Manhattan On a bad day you can’t see anything Beyond the Hudson and Jersey side of things: The grey arroyos of steel, concrete, and glass Seem brittle as paper houses in Japan. On a good …
The Poet’s Corner Here where the end of bone is no end of song And the earth is bedecked with immortality In what was poetry And now is pride beside And nationality, Here is a …
Not Waving but Drowning Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And …
Adventure Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly… Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me! Doom Peter stands by the gate, And Michael by …