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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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Fifty Years Spent, by Maxwell Struthers Burt
Fifty years spent before I found me,
Wind on my mouth and the taste of the rain,
Where the great hills circled and swept around me
And the torrents leapt to the mist-drenched plain;
Ah, it was long this coming of me
Untitled, by Angel Mercedes
but now I see.
Laughter whispering,
your voice lingers on.
Crying, screaming,
and now you're gone.
The Dreamer, by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
"~Why do you seek the sun,
In your Bubble-Crown ascending?
Your chariot will melt to mist,
Your crown will have an ending.~"
"Nay, sun is but a Bubble,
Say not the Struggle Naught availeth, by Arthur Hugh Clough
SAY not the struggle naught availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
Spring Song of the Birds, by King James I
WORSCHIPPE ye that loveris bene this May,
For of your blisse the Kalendis are begonne,
And sing with us, Away, Winter, away!
Cum, Somer, cum, the suete sesoun and sonne!
Awake for schame! that have your hevynnis wonne,
Clancy of the Overflow, by Andrew Barton Paterson (`Banjo')
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressbr>
ALL in the April morning,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs
Pass'd me by on the road.
The sheep with their little lambs
Prayer for Indifference, by Fanny Greville
I ASK no kind return of love,
No tempting charm to please;
Far from the heart those gifts remove,
That sighs for peace and ease.
Nor peace nor ease the heart can know,
Chorus from 'Atalanta', by Algernon Charles Swinburne
WHEN the hounds of spring are on winter's traces,
The mother of months in meadow or plain
Fills the shadows and windy places
With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain;
And the brown bright nightingale amorous
To Death, by Caroline Southey
COME not in terrors clad, to claim
An unresisting prey:
Come like an evening shadow, Death!
So stealthily, so silently!
And shut mine eyes, and steal my breath;
Time, by Jasper Mayne
TIME is the feather'd thing,
And, whilst I praise
The sparklings of thy looks and call them rays,
Takes wing,
Leaving behind him as he flies
No Pushing Metal, by Beverly Bishop
I am a Southern Black Textile
A textile that produces words
An open refinery of definition
For the cause of past racial
Competition
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